


eternally unsaid (the space between them)

by Adenil



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: (but astonishingly no actual bondage contained herein), Aftercare, Anal Sex, Angst, Bad Communication, Bathing, Breathplay, Bruises, Choking, D/s, Date Night, Eating in bed, Face Slapping, Fantasy, Fight Sex, Hand Feeding, Hardcore, Leonard might have a slight annihilation kink so watch out for that, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Mentions of public sex, Mind Melding, Oral Sex, Pining, Possessive Sex, Rape Play, Somnophilia, a metric fuckton of aftercare, also hardcore violent breathplay, degradation kink, dubcon, forced sex kink, marking kink, mentions of past bondage, spock is trying his best, take your pick best of both worlds, tender loving breathplay, tender touches, very bad example of kink negotiation but they still make it work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-03 21:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11540937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil
Summary: Nearly a year into his relationship with Leonard, Spock must still pretend that violent sex is the only kind possible for them. He must pretend that he doesn’t love Leonard—not because he wants to, but because Leonard needs him to. But when a scene goes wrong things seemed irreparably changed between them, and together they must decide whether that is for better or worse.(or: the story of how two people with massive communication issues finally get their shit together)





	eternally unsaid (the space between them)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this very suddenly over the course of three days after [complaining ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/162969469610/alright-people-who-write-nsfw-spones-you-all) that there wasn't enough spones breathplay on AO3. This fic quickly took on a life of its own, but there _is_ breathplay. Enjoy!
> 
> General disclaimer: Hopefully this goes without saying, but please don't take relationship or sexual advice from fanfic! Please mind the warnings. I have tagged "dubcon" because there's no kink negotiation scene (that's actually a plot point), but hopefully it's clear that both parties consent. Consent just looks a bit different when one partner is a telepath and the other has a forced sex kink.
> 
> The poem quoted in the fic is the first half of [ As Long as the Sky Whirls (For Lázaro Gómez) ](http://bombmagazine.org/article/2932/two-poems) by the openly gay Cuban poet [Reinaldo Arenas](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reinaldo_Arenas).

Spock usually awoke long before Leonard did. Often, he would slip from bed and begin working, catching up on the reports from gamma shift or working on whatever paper he was currently writing. Sometimes, though, he found that he couldn’t bear to leave the bed. He would watch Leonard’s beautiful face at rest, count the rise and fall of his breaths, and think about how during the day Leonard turned away from him.

He did not begrudge Leonard’s hesitance now anymore than he ever had. He had been inside Leonard’s mind and knew the sadness, the utter loss that lay within him. He knew why Leonard could not trust that this affection between them was real. He knew why Leonard preferred their touches to be violent, their sex angry, their bodies weaponized rather than loving. Leonard was a man who preferred to say _no_. Spock did not mind. He accepted Leonard as he was. He would do anything for Leonard so long as it allowed them to continue being together.

Anything was better than the panic the first few weeks of their relationship had instilled in him. He still remembered clearly the way Leonard would turn from every kiss, refuse to hold his hand, keep the distance between them a yawning void which grew larger with each passing day. Finally, in despair, Spock had held him struggling against the wall and kissed his stubborn mouth and begged to know what he could do. How he could be enough for Leonard. Leonard had refused to answer. He always did; the space between them was filled with unspoken words. But when he turned his face and tipped his psi points into position, Spock had accepted the gesture.

Spock had never revealed what he found in Leonard’s mind, and Leonard never mentioned it again. It remained a silence between them, the unspoken understanding that when Spock needed assurance that Leonard still wanted this he would dip inside his head and search for it there. Otherwise, Leonard would just keep saying _no_ and Spock would keep taking him anyway, because that was what Leonard wanted. It wasn’t healthy, but it was what they had.

He had still insisted on a safe word and a gesture, and after a week of nagging he’d finally gotten Leonard to agree to one out of spite more than anything.

Spock watched at Leonard’s placid face now, feeling fond. The light of the chronometer was all he had and it cast Leonard in shadow, but Spock could still make out his image. Leonard’s hair had tangled in the night. There were lines of sleep on his cheek. He must have only recently rolled onto his back. Spock propped himself up on one arm and gazed down at his sleeping lover.

Last night had been intense for Spock. He’d spent days practicing his lines in the mirror and learning how to tie a new knot. This morning one of Leonard’s hands had come to rest beside his head, and Spock carefully ran his finger over the violent purple bruise at his wrist. It was raised and welted. Leonard had struggled until his wrists were raw and speckled with tiny scabs. Spock knew if he looked he would see Leonard’s ankles were the same. Spock didn’t like to see Leonard hurt and bloodied. The echo of Leonard begging ( _no, no, please, no_ ) still reverberated within him. But after they had finished Leonard had gone soft and pliable as always, and had hidden his wrists from Spock when he tried to use the dermal regenerator. Clearly he had wanted to keep them bruised until morning, and Spock hadn’t been able to say no.

He leaned down and kissed Leonard’s soft inner wrist, resting his lips over the pulse point there. It was slow, at rest. The sensation of Leonard’s skin beneath his lips began a deep longing within him. He wanted to be with Leonard again, although he knew that wasn’t likely to happen peacefully.

On the days when Spock found himself unable to crawl out of bed for how beautiful Leonard looked, he would still find himself alone. Leonard would eventually awaken, his body stiffening as he saw Spock watching him, and he would be the first to leave.

Spock would have to prevent that. With the ease of long practice he slipped his fingers down to Leonard’s temple, the arch of his cheek, and dipped just beneath the surface of his unconscious thoughts. He counted the patterns and determined Leonard was deep in REM sleep. Unlikely to awaken.

Spock shifted under the covers, his arousal building as he considered what he was about to do. He’d never done this before; it was a sudden thought that came unbidden into his mind. His scenes for Leonard were usually carefully planned to the last detail to ensure nothing could go wrong, to guarantee that Leonard would find it pleasurable. But the idea that flitted through his mind was spontaneous. He and Leonard had never talked about this, but then they never talked about any of it. Leonard trusted him and he didn’t want to break that trust. 

And he wanted so desperately to be with him.

He came to a decision, whispering, “Computer, lights to twenty percent.”

A dim glow filled the room. Not enough to wake Leonard, but enough that Spock could see him more clearly. Better than the barely-there light of the chronometer. Spock carefully sat up and pulled back the covers, laying them out at the foot of the bed. They had slept naked, a rare treat only made possible by Leonard’s exhaustion from the scene. Spock looked at the expanse of Leonard’s pale, delicate body, feeling the burning hum of arousal coil low in his belly. Leonard’s skin immediately began to pebble as the cold air hit him, and Spock ran his soothing-hot hands over it. Leonard didn’t move or respond at all, and something twisted inside of Spock at how vulnerable he looked. 

He checked again that Leonard was still sleeping and then carefully spread his lover’s legs. There were bruises layered over his inner thighs. Some were yellowed with time, others were dark and purple. The most recent ones were in the shape of Spock’s hands and Spock rested his palm there. Unlike the ones on Leonard’s wrists or other exposed areas of his body, Spock wouldn’t remove these. Leonard always grew despondent when he tried.

Leonard was half hard. Spock knew it was merely the natural rhythm of his body, but still it excited him to see it. He nestled his nose against Leonard’s length and inhaled deeply, flicking out his tongue to taste the soft and salty skin. He slowly took Leonard into his mouth and began to suckle, marveling at the way Leonard unfurled on his tongue. He tasted good, and was long and thick and heavy in Spock’s mouth. Spock sucked on him for a few minutes until Leonard was fully hard and then he pulled his mouth off, leaving Leonard wet and glistening in the dim light, his tip exposed and sensitive. Spock breathed over the tip and Leonard unconsciously twitched in his hand. Gently, Spock rolled the skin back over the head of Leonard’s cock to protect it.

Spock’s own slit was thrumming with desire and he began to stroke himself into an erection as his hand slipped beneath Leonard’s body. Leonard was still wet there, body nice and open for Spock to slide two fingers inside. He watched Leonard’s face carefully for signs of wakefulness, not able to sense where he was in his sleep pattern without touching his face. But Leonard did not so much as twitch as Spock began to spread his fingers and thrust gently into him, opening him up.

Leonard was warm and slick inside, and Spock was soon slipping in a third finger, stretching Leonard just enough that he wouldn’t feel Spock entering him. His own cock was wet and hard in his hand and he dropped it, shimmying up to kneel between Leonard’s spread legs. Leonard’s hand was still limply resting by his head and Spock bent to plant a mouth-kiss on his palm. He touched the psi points on Leonard’s face and sunk just below the placid surface of his mind.

Still deep in REM, Leonard was reliving a memory. Spock was about to pull away when he paused, realizing it was not a memory at all. He dipped in deeper and fell into the murky haze of Leonard’s dream. It was like watching through rippling water.

It made sense, in the way that dreams make sense even though they shouldn’t. Leonard was on his knees, his body lit with desire, hands bound behind him with a thing that held him as efficiently as cuffs, but with the sensation of ropes. A dreamed concoction. Spock was standing before Leonard with his cock down Leonard’s throat and Leonard was taking him all the way—something he knew Leonard enjoyed greatly although it was difficult for him to do. Certainly they’d never done it at this angle. Usually he had to tie Leonard down so his head hung over the bed and he could slide into the column of Leonard’s throat as he struggled.

But Spock was somehow in two places. Even though his cock was in Leonard’s mouth and he was standing, his hands were also on Leonard’s throat, rubbing at the distortion in flesh his erection caused. And then Spock was choking him, ghostly fingers curling around him until Leonard struggled to breathe, tears pouring down his face. In the dream, Leonard’s body sparkled with ecstasy.

Spock pulled out of Leonard’s mind, considering what he had seen. He knew Leonard fantasized about Spock’s hands around his neck, but the dream had a certain tenor to it...as though it were well worn. It wasn’t a memory of something that had happened—Spock had not done that to him before—but of something Leonard had _imagined_ happening, daydreamed about perhaps and was now recalling in his sleep. The dream had seemed to last several minutes but in reality only a few seconds had passed. He was still hard, still resting against Leonard’s entrance, and he carefully pushed in.

Leonard opened beautifully for him, and Spock considered what a rare sight it was for Leonard not to be struggling while they did this. Usually he had to strap Leonard to the bed to get that kind of reaction, and even then the tension was everywhere in Leonard’s frame. He looked up at Leonard’s sleeping face and admired his long eyelashes, the way his moist lips parted with his breaths. Leonard was so beautiful, so perfect. Spock adored him.

He rocked his hips forward slowly, gradually, until he was seated inside Leonard’s loose hole. He’d left his come inside his lover the night before, and that mixed with his new slick meant Spock encountered no resistance as he slid inside. He placed his hands on the bruises that lined Leonard’s inner thighs and began to thrust gently, hardly pulling out at all before slipping back in. He didn’t really want to pull out. He wanted to stay inside of Leonard all day.

Unfortunately, the chronometer told him that although time was on his side, it wasn’t an infinite resource. He picked up the pace, pressing down so Leonard’s hard cock was sandwiched against his stomach. Leonard rocked gently with his movements, hair catching and falling against the pillow.

He had an inkling that Leonard would like it if he came inside. It could be a new scene: Leonard awakening to him on top, already filled with his come as Spock kept fucking him. Held him down to take him again. He imagined Leonard’s screams of distress and hummed, mentally putting together how he would respond.

With one hand, Spock drew Leonard’s other arm above his head. He took both of Leonard’s wrists in his hand and held them, loosely for now but ready to tighten his grip. He knew that his inhuman strength was part of what Leonard found so attractive in him. That and those other things, the things that weren’t sexual that he knew he could never mention.

With his other hand he slipped back into Leonard’s mind, just riding the surface waves of his thoughts. He counted the beats of Leonard’s electrical impulses and extrapolated when he would awaken. There was just enough time to enjoy the moment a little longer.

He kept fucking Leonard slow and easy, wishing fleetingly that it could be like this more often. Not necessarily all the time—he was fine with what they had—but sometimes. He wanted to please Leonard and Leonard was most pleased by force. He had accepted that. But sometimes he wished they could be…

He shook his head to dispel the thought. It was illogical to wish for that which could not be. He would instead enjoy what he already had: Leonard’s chest rising and falling as he slept; the feeling of Leonard’s hard, dry cock against his stomach; Leonard loose and smooth around him; Leonard’s beautiful face relaxed, at peace. Surak advise him, but he adored everything about Leonard. Leonard felt so good around him, so perfect and warm. Spock realized he was going to come with a sense of detachment.

His orgasm slipped up behind him and he emptied out into Leonard’s waiting body, filling him. Spock shook with the force of it, concentrating on keeping his erection steady as Leonard’s eyelashes fluttered.

Leonard shifted beneath him, letting out a gentle murmur. His eyes closed again and Spock held still, watching him. Leonard’s hole fluttered around him as he began to wake and Spock had no trouble staying erect after that. Leonard wiggled again, and sighed peacefully, and then a little line of confusion appeared at his brow.

He jerked suddenly and Spock quickly tightened his grip on Leonard’s wrists. Leonard’s eyes flew open and he looked up at Spock. For a moment Spock saw it all—confusion, realization, and then burning desire, arousal, excitement—but then Leonard wiped it all away and he was only gazing at Spock with open, abject fear.

“What are you—”

Spock slapped Leonard across the face, stunning him into silence. Their bodies squelched  together as Leonard tightened in fear. “Shut up,” Spock hissed. “Did you think I was done with you?”

He had decided it would be a continuation of their scene last night. Last night, when he’d feigned breaking into his own quarters and grabbed Leonard from behind, growled into his ear before biting it, slapped Leonard across the face just to hear him gasp, tied Leonard to the bed so he could fuck him as Leonard begged him to stop. Spock was uncertain at what point Leonard’s begging had shifted from the usual to something new ( _please, please I have a partner, I—he’ll be so angry with me, please stop, I—_ ) but Spock hadn’t let up. Leonard’s words had only increased his frantic need to claim him as his own. Leonard rarely called him his partner, and he had reveled in it.

Spock leaned in to bite the side of Leonard’s neck and Leonard gasped, squirming delightfully beneath him, wrists twisting sleepily.

“Please!” Leonard shivered. “Please, please don’t. I don’t want—he’ll be so angry with me if he finds out I—”

“ _I_ took you,” he hissed. “You’re _mine_. You owe this to me.”

Leonard groaned, shaking his head _no_. Spock pulled back to keep Leonard’s hands in his sight, but they weren’t forming the signal that he should really stop, nor did Leonard seem inclined to say it. A thrill ran down his spine. It wasn’t logical, wasn’t rational, but the way Leonard fought him aroused him. It always surprised him.

He squeezed Leonard’s wrists even harder and Leonard began to try to yank away, his human strength not even close to a match for Spock. He began to kick at Spock awkwardly and Spock growled low.

“Stop it,” he ordered, and when Leonard tried to kick him again he slapped Leonard’s other cheek, hard enough that Leonard’s head swung around. His eyes had grown glassy as he sank to that place where Spock was terrified to follow. “Lie there and take it.”

Leonard whimpered. “What are you going to do to me?”

He shoved himself deep into Leonard’s body and Leonard keened, his voice raw and scratchy. Leonard was tight around him now, body tensed with adrenaline, and Spock didn’t pull back out. “Do you feel my mark in you?”

Leonard hitched in a shuddering breath. He nodded.

“I’ve come in you once already. Your sleeping form was quite beautiful.” That was a bit too real, but Leonard seemed to interpret it as part of the act and so Spock pushed on, twisting the truth in the hopes of pleasing Leonard. “To see you helpless like that—it aroused me.”

Leonard whimpered again. His body was starting to relax, but he was still shaking with adrenaline. Spock slapped him again and Leonard jerked, his hole gripping at Spock’s cock as his cheek reddened.

“You were loosening,” Spock said.

“I’m sorry,” Leonard said miserably. “Please, I’m sorry. J-just please stop.”

Spock paused for a moment as if considering. Leonard’s blue eyes were wet with unshed tears from the pain of being slapped. Leonard’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Spock began moving again, thrusting into Leonard’s body, as the dream Leonard had had came rushing back to him. The memory of Leonard so aroused made him quake with desire. He wanted to help Leonard feel that in reality.

He closed his hand around Leonard’s throat.

Immediately, Leonard’s heart rate picked up. Spock could feel it against his fingers. Leonard’s cock twitched between their bodies. “Wh-what are you doing?”

In answer, Spock pressed down.

The reaction was immediate and astonishing. Leonard went tight around him, his entire body writhing at the force of Spock’s hand at his throat. Spock began to count down the seconds. He kept his touch as light as possible to still get the desired reaction, watching Leonard for any hint that he needed this to stop. His hands were still balled into fists and although his mouth hung open his lips were far from the safeword. Spock knew this was dangerous, and he knew Leonard knew as well. As a doctor Leonard should have stopped him. As a rational being Spock should have stopped himself. But he did not.

Leonard’s movements began to still and he seemed to be conserving his energy. Leonard’s mouth opened slowly, and then closed, his face flushed pink. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. He made a sound, a whimper without breath.

Ninety seconds. Spock drew back his hand.

Leonard gasped, shuddering. He sucked in a half-dozen desperate breaths, eyes wide and blown. Spock had not held him long enough for it to be truly dangerous, but still Leonard was tense with arousal and excitement. He was still hard against Spock’s stomach, tight around his cock as Spock thrust into him.

“You enjoyed that,” Spock accused, letting his voice drop into the disgust of his role even though he was truly fascinated.

Leonard hiccuped, blinking rapidly. “N-no.”

“You did.” Spock pressed his palm down again, just for a second, and then lifted the pressure. “I feel how your body responds.”

“I’m not.” Leonard began to shake his head back and forth, desperate. “Please, I’m not!”

“You tighten—” Spock stabbed into him to prove his point. “As I suffocate you.”

“Please,” Leonard begged. “Don’t—”

His words faded to a choke as Spock stopped his breath again. Leonard’s wrists twisted under his hand and Spock watched them carefully, desperately wondering if Leonard would ever give the signal. He never had, but surely this…? He calculated the steps he would need to reach the oxygen mask Leonard kept in the first aid kit. He determined it would take seven seconds to get Leonard on oxygen. He also determined he was losing his mind.

But Leonard was so good around him, his skin breaking out into a sweat, his cock hot and heavy between them. His beautiful blue eyes were losing their focus. His ass squeezed around Spock as Spock took him, pounded him into the bed. Spock took perverse pleasure in the way his hand looked around Leonard’s neck. Leonard’s mouth opened and closed as the heated flush rose high on his cheeks, and Spock released his wrists.

He wrapped both hands around the column of Leonard’s throat, but he only squeezed with one. It was easier to maintain control that way. Still, the image was intriguing. His hands seemed large around Leonard's neck. He expected Leonard to try and push him away, beat him off with his fists, but instead Leonard’s hands wrapped around his fingers, tugging sluggishly as his body flowed like water.

Spock leaned in and kissed him, shoving his tongue into Leonard’s lax mouth, waiting for the shape of the safe word against him yet knowing it would not come. He could feel the silent rasps of Leonard’s breath against his lips as he traced the inside of Leonard’s mouth, and then that breath stopped as well. He pulled back to look down at him, stone-faced. Leonard’s mouth stayed opened, throat clicking in distress. His entire body was shaking, shuddering, his hole so tight that Spock saw stars. Sometimes, when Leonard wanted Spock to take him dry he would fight Spock the whole time, force Spock to shove him down and get his cock in him before he had a chance to finger him. It was tight like that.

One-hundred and twenty seconds. He let Leonard go and Leonard heaved, gasping, fingers slipping with sweat over the back of Spock’s hand. He tried to pull Spock away and Spock waited for him to catch his breath.

Logic had abandoned him. He waited until Leonard was sucking in a breath, mouth huge and open, and then he squeezed once more. Leonard shook his head weakly, barely able to move with Spock holding him. Leonard batted at his hand, mouth so perfect and lax Spock had to kiss him again, quickly, before pulling back to watch Leonard’s hands for the safeword.

They were shaking. Leonard’s chest was flushed with heat, his stomach tense. His face was reddening again. His tongue moved weakly, fluttering, and Spock felt a rush of desire. He wondered what it would be like to copy Leonard’s dream fully—or as much as they could. He could get Leonard on his back, strap him to the bed, hang his head over the side and slide into that warm, wet mouth. Wrap his hands around Leonard’s throat and control his breath, make his cock twitch just as it was twitching against Spock now. He could do it. Leonard would let him; let Spock force his way in and claim every inch of Leonard’s body as his own.

Leonard’s eyes began to roll back into his head. Spock kept counting as Leonard’s hand went limp and he blinked slowly, so slowly, his struggles weak and inexpert, body tight with desperation around Spock’s cock.

One-hundred fifty seconds. He dropped his grasp.

Leonard fell back against the pillow, gasping and retching as Spock kept fucking him. It wasn’t exactly about that anymore, not really. Spock did it because that was part of the scene, part of what they were doing together. A necessary facade. But really he was just fascinated by how his lover reacted to his touch, the pleasure that rolled off of Leonard in waves as he swallowed huge, desperate lungfuls of air. He looked like he was about to pass out even though Spock wasn’t squeezing him, and so Spock lifted his hand to lightly slap Leonard across the face once, and then again, waking him from his ecstasy.

Leonard blinked. Shook himself. He was still shivering, tears pooled at the bridge of his nose. When he spoke his words were scratchy, “What are you...waiting for?”

Spock arched his brow and then quickly put it down. The person he was pretending to be wouldn’t do that. “Waiting for?”

“Are you going to...kill me?”

Spock froze. He had never mentioned that when they were like this—never threatened it, never tried to hint at it. Even the thought made his blood run cold. He shook himself to dispel the images that rushed to his mind and tried not to think of all the times he had been so close—far too close—to losing Leonard ( _you’ve got a good bedside manner, Spock_ ). His hands at Leonard’s throat ( _are you trying to kill me, Spock? is that what you really want?_ ). Was that what he was trying to do? 

Leonard seemed to realize what he was thinking because he squirmed to distract Spock. “You’re just going to keep choking me?” he demanded, eyes blazing with anger and apology. Another thing they would never talk about.

Spock swallowed and slipped uneasily back into his role. “I’m going to take you,” he promised, dark and forceful. “I will fill you because you are desperate for it.”

“I’m not—”

“Silence!” Spock rocked his hips forward again, drawing tiny circles that made Leonard shudder. “I will fill you and plug you. My come will be inside of you—” _Leonard_ , he almost said. “—trapped there. You will be marked as mine. What will your partner think of that?”

Leonard shook his head, eyes wide and glistening. “He—I—Please don’t, he won’t—”

Spock squeezed Leonard just enough to cut off his voice, and then released him. “I will allow you to choose,” he said, keeping his voice artificially level. “I can keep you like this, under me, keep you struggling to breathe so that you stay tight around me until I come. Or, you can get up on your knees and ride me yourself, tell me how much you love it when I take you. It would be gentler that way.” But, Leonard would have to play at saying _yes_.

Spock thought his chances were high that Leonard would ride him instead of keeping up the choking. In the context of the game it shouldn’t be too taxing on his self-loathing to pretend to be forced to like something. Leonard blinked at him, a frown prominent at his brow, and then eventually nodded.

“Let me go,” he said softly, eyes downcast. “I’ll ride you.”

Spock touched Leonard’s beautiful face. “You’ll like it,” he promised, and Leonard shivered. He tightened his grip and said again, harsher, “ _You will like it_.”

His voice was low, wrecked. “...I’ll like it.”

He dropped his hold on Leonard’s neck and leaned down to kiss Leonard again, forcing his way into Leonard’s mouth as Leonard lay beneath him, shivering. He slowly pulled out, swallowing Leonard’s weak gasp, and started to move away. He was so distracted by the taste of Leonard that he didn’t realize Leonard was moving until his foot connected with his side.

Leonard kicked the breath right out of him and he went sprawling half-way across the bed. Leonard was already on his feet as he struggled to breathe, growling—animalistic—as real rage flashed through him. Leonard often fought dirty during their scenes, but he hadn’t thought that he would _now_ , immediately after agreeing to obey him. Watching Leonard sleeping must have lulled him into a false sense of security.

He was after Leonard in an instant, grabbing the back of Leonard’s arm and yanking him as he tried to escape the bedroom. Leonard cried out and swung at him awkwardly, a move Spock easily dodged. He grappled with Leonard and Leonard fought back, hands clawing at Spock’s arms and chest. Spock wrapped his leg around the back of Leonard’s knee and kicked him off balance and they went down in a tangle of limbs.

Spock landed hard and barely kept his wits enough to press Leonard’s face into the ground. He bit Leonard’s ear hard enough to make Leonard scream out and growled, “ _Wrong choice_.”

He held Leonard facedown on the ground and mentally berated himself for imagining that Leonard would ever want something even approaching intimacy with him. Asking Leonard to ride him and pretend to like it? He was a fool. He shoved Leonard’s legs apart, hands pressing violently against the tender bruised flesh of his inner thigh.

Leonard cried out again. “Wait! Wait, I’m sorry! Please, I didn’t mean—!”

“Stop speaking,” Spock growled. He realized his hand was wrapped around Leonard’s neck, palm against the bobbing adam’s apple, and he pressed in, not enough to cut off the air but enough for Leonard to _feel_ it, and Leonard swallowed a broken sob at the contact. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

Leonard shook his head. “No, I—”

“Stop!” Spock roared. He shoved his cock into Leonard’s bruised hole and Leonard cried out again, groaning in distress.

“Please, please, I’m sorry—I’m sorry I—” He gagged, gasping as Spock began to choke him again.

Blindly, Spock reached down and lifted one of Leonard’s hands up to rest beside his head. He watched for the signal but none came even as Leonard’s breath turned raspy, then choked, then silent, his body clenched around Spock as Spock rutted against him on the cold floor.

“Filthy,” Spock growled into his ear. “You’re disgusting.” He thrust into Leonard’s channel, feeling the heat rising in Leonard’s body. Leonard’s chest was shuddering but not expanding—he couldn't breath.

Leonard shook his head. Smacked the ground and tried to heave Spock off of him, but he couldn’t. Spock reached down with his free hand and took Leonard’s full cock into his palm, stroking him.

“I feel how much you love this,” Spock whispered to him, thrusting fast and hard into Leonard again and again and again. “I feel how hard you get for me.”

He released Leonard’s throat and his lover—his—his Leonard gasped. Spock only let him take in one breath, whisper a single syllable ( _st—!_ ) before he was choking him again. He stripped Leonard’s cock as Leonard shuddered beneath him, his body tight and slick and good, his face flushed with heat, tears pouring down his face.

“Stop crying,” Spock ordered, momentarily disturbed. He pulled Leonard’s neck so that his face was pressed against the ground and he didn’t have to see. “Stop crying. You like this.”

Leonard shook his head. Hand still pressed flat against the ground. He gasped again as Spock released him, groaning and choking around his own spit as he tried to breathe. His cock bobbed in Spock’s hands and Spock could feel how close he was by the way his legs were shaking and his whole body was coiled taut like a spring, and he grabbed Leonard tightly, desperate to push him over the edge.

“You like it,” Spock insisted, curling his fingers around Leonard’s neck and pulling their bodies flush, holding Leonard down as he bucked beneath him, struggling for air but unable to throw Spock off of him. “I can feel your desire. You’re going to come around me as I take you, your body begging for me to own you like this. You love this. You love—”

Leonard choked, throat clicking, hand shifting to a new shape and—

 _Hobgoblin_.

Instantly, Spock pulled back, a thrill of fear and concern running down his spine. He ripped his hand from Leonard’s throat so quickly his knuckles rapped against the ground, even as Leonard began coming against his palm, gasping and lurching, his sobs now loud and wrecked as he sucked in whimpering breaths. Spock watched, horrified that he hadn’t stopped soon enough, as Leonard cried and spilled out onto the floor.

“Leonard, I—”

“I’m sorry!” Leonard sobbed. He curled into himself and pressed his wet face into his hands, his back heaving. “S-sorry—sorry, I’m _sorry_!”

Spock realized belatedly he was still inside Leonard. He hadn’t come. He started to pull out to better assess the situation but Leonard keened in distress, one hand flying back to grab Spock’s hip.

“No, don’t, please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Spock, _please_!”

He held still again. He didn’t know where to put his hands and so he rested them on Leonard’s waist. He pressed his chest against Leonard’s back again and held him as he cried. “It is alright,” he said. His throat felt raw at the sight of his love sobbing so openly. “Shh, Leonard, it is alright. I am not leaving.”

“You can do it—I’m sorry. You can do it.” Leonard babbled now, face turned away from Spock. Spock could only see his shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stop you. I’m so—I’m so sorry, _fuck_. Please, I just—you can finish—I’m not—it’s just that—I’m not stopping you. I take it back. Please don’t leave, don’t leave me, I’m—you can keep going.”

Spock soothed him and tried to keep down his own rising panic at Leonard’s distress. He kissed the back of Leonard’s neck and rocked him gently as he cried. Truthfully, any arousal he had felt had disappeared the instant Leonard had begun really crying. His penis was already receding into his body, gradually pulling itself away from Leonard. He felt chilled to the bone.

“It’s alright,” he whispered again, kissing Leonard’s bent shoulders. “It’s alright. I am right here, Leonard. I’m right beside you. I’m not leaving you.”

Leonard snuffled pitifully. His voice was so raw and Spock hated that he didn’t know where the physical damage ended and the emotional began. “...‘m sorry,” he murmured again.

He ran his hands down Leonard’s sides softly. “I’m right here,” he said again. Leonard had gone eerily quiet, only his breaths shattering the silence. “Leonard?”

Leonard shifted and made a quizzical sound.

“I’m going to face you now, is that alright?”

He hesitated. Nodded.

Spock didn’t try to roll Leonard over. Instead he crawled over the trunk of Leonard’s body so that he could lie facing him on the floor. There was a sticky spot where Leonard had come but Spock ignored it. Leonard’s comfort was more important than his own. Leonard was still burying his face against the ground, one hand shielding him from Spock’s view, and Spock gently touched his jaw with a finger-kiss.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here, and you’re alright. You are uninjured, Leonard.”

Leonard shuddered. He allowed Spock to gather him up and pull him into a hug. Leonard’s face pressed against Spock’s shoulder, wet with tears. “...’m sorry.”

Spock’s heart ached. “You do not need to apologize.”

“I jus’...’m sorry...just thought...I thought I was going to die an’...thought about how you would...look, an’ just couldn’t...I thought I could handle it…’m sorry, Spock.”

Spock kissed the top of his head, his mind whirring with Leonard’s words. “You need not apologize, Leonard,” he told him again. “I am so proud of you for sharing your limits with me.”

Leonard shivered, swallowing another broken sob.

Spock held him, rocking him gently and laying soft kisses on the top of his head and anywhere he could reach. Leonard was limp and unresisting in his arms. He soothed Leonard’s back and left finger-kisses on his neck and the blades of his shoulders. He wanted to tell Leonard he loved him, but he swallowed the words. Even at the best of times Leonard couldn’t stand to hear him say that.

He held Leonard for a long time, until gradually Leonard’s breathing had evened out into something approaching normalcy. Spock wondered if they would ever truly feel normal again after this. He craned his neck to kiss Leonard’s temple and Leonard weakly lifted his face.

Spock paused, shocked at Leonard wordlessly begging to be kissed. He pressed their lips together quickly, but gently, worried that Leonard would retract the offer. Leonard’s lips were soft beneath his, smooth and unresisting.

Suddenly Leonard pulled away, pressing his face against the floor again. He sniffed and tried to wipe his nose. “I’m sorry. I-I’m a mess.”

“You’re perfect, Leonard,” Spock assured him. Leonard was starting to shiver and so Spock wrapped his warm arms around him. “You feel cold?”

Leonard nodded.

“Let me assist you.”

He shifted slowly, handling Leonard with care as he slid one arm under Leonard’s shoulders and the other beneath his knees. He stood, lifting Leonard up and swaying only slightly under the weight of him. Leonard curled into his arms as he carried him across the room and gently laid him down on the bed. He pulled the blankets up around Leonard’s shoulders and kissed Leonard’s temple.

“Leonard, I’m going to get a wet cloth to help clean you. Is that acceptable?”

Leonard turned to hide his face in the pillow, nodding.

Spock knew he wasn’t likely to get a better response, and so he padded his way into the bathroom. He took a washcloth into his hand and turned the sink from sonic to water, wetting the cloth well. He stared at the water rushing over his hand, cold, and then looked up into the mirror.

He was panicking, he realized. He took a few, firm breaths and forcefully slammed his Vulcan mental controls down. His reaction was unacceptable. It was Leonard who required his undivided attention.

But he could hardly believe this was happening. They had been together for almost a year and Leonard had never used the safeword. Spock always watched for it diligently, but he had assumed Leonard would use it at the first sign of trouble, not the last. Not when it was almost too late—or later. Another thing they had never talked about but which had almost cost them dearly.

With a sigh Spock collected himself and stepped back into the room. Leonard had rolled over onto his stomach, face turned away from Spock, the blankets loose now around his ribs. Spock frowned at the sight and knelt down beside Leonard, the bed dipping with his weight.

“Leonard?”

“...Yeah?”

“I am going to wash you now. Is that acceptable?”

Leonard shrugged and so Spock peeled back the blanket and rested the warm cloth on the back of Leonard’s thigh. He wiped away the traces of their activities and, sensing that Leonard did not want to look at him, he instead reached down between Leonard’s legs to his front, cleaning his soft penis and stomach as best he could without being able to see. He drew the cloth back and touched it to Leonard’s bottom, but Leonard’s hand reached unseeing for his wrist.

“Wait,” Leonard said, catching Spock’s arm. The back of his neck was flushed red with embarrassment. “Can you...still use the plug?”

Spock hesitated. He occasionally used the plug on Leonard, slipping it inside of him after their activities so that Leonard had to spend the day marked by him. It was one of the things he enjoyed most, being able to look over at Leonard in the middle of an argument and know that despite the anger in his face Leonard was being penetrated, Spock’s mark held deep inside him. He had started it because he knew Leonard fantasized about it, enjoyed it. He knew from the way Leonard held his body, his bottom arching up for it even as he begged Spock not to ( _please, I have work, anyone could know—_ ), but also because of what he had seen in Leonard’s mind. But Leonard had never asked for it before. It had always been part of a scene.

“Yes,” Spock agreed, rising hastily to retrieve it. He wasn’t sure what it meant that Leonard was suddenly asking for things rather than expecting Spock to guess. He worried that something tenuous between them had broken, and he was concerned that what they had together might be irreparably changed. He didn’t want to lose Leonard, not for anything, and so he would do whatever Leonard asked of him.

He fetched the small black plug and then the dermal regenerator from Leonard’s first aid kit. His hand brushed against the oxygen mask as he took it out, and Spock stopped to look at it. He was thankful they had not had to use it, but he still felt like a fool for what he had driven Leonard to do. He should have never pushed Leonard so hard. This was why he needed to carefully plan his scenes well in advance.

He returned to find Leonard had not moved. Spock rested his hand on Leonard’s upper thigh, just below his bottom, and Leonard slid his legs a little further apart without Spock even needing to ask.

“You are certain?”

Leonard stayed silent, his body tense.

Spock realized he should not have asked. He lined the black tip of the plug up with Leonard’s hole. Leonard was still loose, wet, and the plug slid easily into him as he stretched around the thickest part of it before the flared base finally settled against him. Leonard sighed deeply when it was done and seemed to relax, shoulders losing their tension.

Spock wanted to kiss him so badly, but he settled for picking up Leonard’s right wrist and running the dermal regenerator over it. He kept each pass steady, methodical, as the regenerator healed Leonard from the inside out. Then he reached over Leonard’s still body and repeated the procedure with his other wrist. After, he rested his hand on the small of Leonard’s back, hating that Leonard wouldn't look at him.

“...Would you like me to heal your thighs?”

In answer, Leonard drew his legs closed. Spock didn’t push him.

Spock glanced at the chronometer and winced. He had fifteen minutes to get ready for his shift, and he was still naked and Leonard was still unresponsive. Spock firmly resolved never to do a scene before work again, and resigned himself to being late. “If you wish to call in sick—”

Leonard interrupted with a huff of annoyance. “I don’t need a damn sick day.”

Spock looked at the back of his head, fond, but also disturbed. “Very well. If you wish to work from your quarters today I could reassign the work.”

“Don’t baby me. I’m fine.”

“Then why do you refuse to look at me?”

Leonard went still. After a moment he spoke, his voice muffled by the pillow. “...There’s still a bruise you need to heal.”

Spock watched as Leonard shifted onto his knees and then slowly turned, rolling so Spock could see his front. Spock could not suppress his quiet gasp fast enough.

Leonard’s throat was mottled, black-and-blue bruises already rising to the surface in the shape of Spock’s violent hand. Spock couldn’t believe he had done that, that those were his fingers he was looking at, smudged bruises from how hard Leonard had struggled. But Leonard had wanted it...hadn’t he?

Steeling himself, Spock raised the regenerator, but Leonard stopped him before he could touch him with it.

“Let me see that,” he said gruffly, taking it from Spock’s hands. He fiddled with the settings and then handed it back.

Spock looked down at the indicator and frowned. Leonard had reset the system to training mode. It would now only heal the surface of Leonard’s bruises, the aesthetic part, leaving the tissue just below the skin sore and damaged. He looked up and saw the Leonard was looking away flatly, his face stiff. He did want the bruises, then. Wanted to be able to touch them throughout the day, wince at the memory of Spock pinning him down. Spock could think of no other reason to keep them just below the surface. But of course, Leonard would never say that. Could never say that. Another thing to fall sharp and barbed between them, eternally unsaid.

Spock lifted the regenerator and healed him.

—

The sound ( _hhk—hhk—hhk—_ ) of Leonard not breathing echoed through his mind.

Spock arrived to his shift twenty-five minutes late. He looked away from Jim’s knowing gaze and went to his station. There were a handful of people Spock suspected knew about his relationship with Leonard and Jim was chief among them. Now his tardiness had almost certainly confirmed it for the Captain, since he had likely already been informed that the chief medical officer was also late to report in. Spock had dipped into Leonard’s mind and understood his fear of being found out. That for Leonard love was always tenuous, always fragile, always at risk of being lost, and that if people knew then they would feel sympathy when it was inevitably over. That the pity Leonard imagined in their eyes was almost as bad as losing the relationship in the first place.

He focused on his work and did not think of Leonard any more than he usually did, which was still quite often. When Leonard had finally chased him out that morning he had still seemed quite shaken, although his words and actions were as normal. Pretending that nothing was wrong. Spock didn’t know how to ask if he was well without inciting his ire.

Thoughts of Leonard stayed in the back of his mind, turning over and over like a math problem. He almost wished Leonard were simply an equation to solve. If he could know the inputs then he could solve the issue easily. He shook his head at the thought. No, Leonard was not so easy to solve as an equation. Leonard was complex, nuanced, multi-faceted. Spock would not have him any other way.

By the time his lunch break approached Spock resigned himself to the fact that he could not stop thinking about Leonard. He worried about him, wondered if he was still healthy of mind and body, or if he was distraught.

Spock excused himself from the bridge and rode the turbolift down to deck 7. He kept his face impassive as he strolled into Sickbay. It was empty save for Chapel working at the computer terminal. She looked up as he entered.

She seemed to know why he was here, and Spock added another to the list of people who had correctly deduced the nature of his relationship with Leonard, such as it was. “He’s in a bit of a mood today,” she said.

Spock nodded. “I am aware.”

She stood, picking up her datapadds and signing off of the computer. “You know, I’ve got some work to catch up on in the science lab. Dr. McCoy is in his office if you wanted to stop by and say hello.”

He watched her go and then looked to Leonard’s office, feeling an illogical sense of foreboding as he stared at the closed door. Spock lifted his chin and walked forward, keying the door chime and walking in before Leonard could respond.

Leonard looked up as he entered, surprise written on his face. He looked exhausted, slumped against the desk with his head in his hands. Spock could see that his computer had turned off from inactivity. How long had Leonard been staring at the blank screen?

“Spock? Is there an injury?”

His voice—it chilled Spock to hear how coarse it was, still rough from their activities that morning, from how much Spock had hurt him. Spock shook his head. He stepped in so the door could close completely. “I have come to inquire if you wish to join me for lunch.”

Leonard frowned. He turned back to his computer and woke it up. “I’m not hungry,” he grumbled. “Thanks for the offer.”

Spock hesitated only a moment before stepping forward again, walking speedily across the room as Leonard frowned at him. He rounded Leonard’s desk and ignored Leonard’s startled complaint as he took Leonard’s arms and hauled him up, pulling Leonard’s tense body against him and into a hug. He held him, burying his face against Leonard’s neck as Leonard stood utterly still in his grasp.

“I am sorry,” Spock whispered.

Leonard’s tension increased exponentially. He squirmed with discomfort. “Spock—”

“Please, Leonard. What do you need from me? How can I make you happy?”

Leonard stilled. Spock could feel his breathing rate increase. “You’re—you’re fine, Spock.”

“But you are not.”

Leonard pulled away, eyes trained on the ground. Spock kept his hands on Leonard’s arms, concerned that he may try to escape. He didn’t want to let him go. Leonard took a deep breath, started to say something but closed his mouth. Finally, he tipped his head to the side, psi points angled up.

It hurt Spock to look at him, but he understood that Leonard could not give him more than that. He touched Leonard’s face softly, gently, and watched Leonard’s eyes close in defeat. Acceptance. Carefully, Spock slipped inside, riding the torrential downpour of Leonard’s emotions. So much chaos. Spock was stunned at how still Leonard was holding himself. Self-discipline to rival a Vulcan.

He read the surface of Leonard’s thoughts and relaxed incrementally. He could see, just beneath what Leonard was feeling—those emotions that sprung up unbidden when he looked at Spock, emotions Spock would once again have to pretend he didn’t know existed—that Leonard was wishing for something.

Spock slowly disentangled their minds, slipping back into his own body. He felt very small. Very alone. He kept his hand on Leonard’s face and turned it to look at him, gazing into Leonard’s startling blue eyes. ( _I adore you_.)

“Tell me.”

Leonard squirmed. “I don’t—”

Spock held him tighter, standing straight so as to loom over Leonard, feeling the shudder of want that ran through his lover’s body. “Tell me,” he ordered again, voice calm.

It was difficult. Spock could see the tension and pain on Leonard’s face as he struggled to find the words to describe what Spock had already seen in his mind. It was never easy for Leonard to say what he wanted. What he needed. “I...want…” He took a deep breath, body tense and shivering. “I want...I want to be on my knees for you, Spock.”

Spock nodded. He wished desperately to kiss Leonard, to relieve him of the tension. But he hadn’t seen that inside Leonard’s mind. “Kneel for me.”

Leonard dropped immediately, obediently, and Spock was shocked at the sight of him kneeling at his feet, face turned towards the ground as an embarrassed flush traveled up the back of his neck. Leonard’s obedience was not easily won. It came at a cost; bruises on Leonard’s skin to match the ones on Spock’s heart. Leonard liked the fight, liked the struggle, and Spock had grown to take pleasure in it as well. Yet, it was magical to see Leonard like this. Obedient from Spock’s mere words.

He ran his hand through Leonard’s hair and Leonard shivered, his eyes fluttering closed. Spock knew from his mind that Leonard expected him to open the front of his pants, draw Leonard’s face to his groin, force him to use his tongue to pleasure Spock. But Spock didn’t do that. This new thing was too different and it left him uncertain.

He didn’t want to leave Leonard, but he needed time to regroup and find focus. And Leonard still had not eaten.

“Can you see the chronometer from this location?”

Leonard opened his eyes, looking up at Spock in confusion before sliding his gaze to the wall. “Yes,” he said.

“I will return in less than five minutes,” Spock said. “You may watch the chronometer, but you may not leave this spot. Kneel here and wait for me.” He hesitated, mentally calculating probabilities. “If someone other than me enters you may pretend to have dropped something behind your desk. Can you do this for me?”

Leonard’s eyes were lit now with the challenge. He nodded and Spock petted his hair once more before turning to leave, feeling Leonard’s gaze on his back like a weight.

Spock dashed to the mess hall and grabbed the first tray that came to his hand. On it was a bowl of grapes and Spock quickly gathered up a few other things: slices of cheese, crackers, nuts. Finger foods. The thought of Leonard still kneeling in his office spurred him on even as he calculated his next moves. How could he best give Leonard what he wanted—what he needed? How could he keep Leonard interested in him? He wished he hadn’t left. He wondered if Leonard would still be there when he returned or if Leonard would grow nervous with his absence, mind overworking itself as Leonard convinced himself Spock didn’t want him. He hadn’t restrained Leonard. Maybe it was a mistake to give Leonard a chance to second guess his desire to be with Spock without force.

The trip took him less than three minutes. He flew back into Leonard’s office, his heart hammering in his side, and then nearly dropped his tray when he saw the way Leonard was looking at him.

Leonard was still kneeling there, hands lightly resting on his thighs, eyes soft as he turned to look at Spock. There was a certain openness to him that Spock was unused to seeing, a gentleness to his face that Spock had only seen when Leonard slept, or occasionally when Spock caught him watching from the corner of his eye and Leonard didn’t know he’d been spotted. For a moment Leonard’s gaze seemed to envelope him, cocooning him in warmth, and Spock shivered at the sensation.

“Computer, privacy mode.”

The door chimed to signal it was locked and he saw Leonard shudder before stilling himself. Spock took a calming breath and tried to think about who he was supposed to be right now.

He couldn’t remember. “You’re still here.”

Leonard looked annoyed for a split second, a decidedly human expression. “You told me to sit here.”

Who did Leonard think he was? Spock wasn’t sure about that, either. He approached slowly, setting down the covered tray on Leonard’s desk. He could feel Leonard watching him, gaze heated and interested to see what Spock would do next. Spock merely sat in Leonard’s desk chair with Leonard a half-meter away on his knees. Silently, Spock unraveled the silverware and took the napkin, spreading it over his lap with a flourish.

“What are you—?”

“Shh,” Spock said gently. He smoothed the cloth over his lap and looked down at Leonard, affection bubbling inside of him as Leonard gazed up at him curiously, eyebrows arched in a question unspoken. Spock rarely got to see Leonard so open, wearing his usual expressions like he wasn’t on his knees for Spock, half way to slipping into a scene. “Don’t speak. Come here.” Spock patted his lap.

Leonard shifted forward. He wasn’t hesitant, but he did seem interested in what Spock would do next. He let Spock pull him against his leg and Spock rested Leonard’s head on his lap, gently running his fingers through Leonard’s soft hair. He thought of how tangled it had been this morning. It was smooth now, silky. He combed his fingers through it and lifted the lid from the lunch tray.

He could feel Leonard watching his every move as he pulled the bowl of grapes towards him. He took the stem in one hand, his other still tangled in Leonard’s hair, and popped off one of the round fruits. It was firm between his fingers and he slid his hand down to rest the sphere against Leonard’s plush lips. Leonard opened his mouth obediently and Spock slipped it inside, rolling over Leonard’s tongue, and then pulled back to watch him chew thoughtfully.

Leonard chewed. Swallowed. Let his mouth hang open for more.

Spock fed him steadily, slowly. Bit by bit the food on the tray disappeared into Leonard’s waiting mouth. He kept petting Leonard’s hair because it felt good to do so, felt right. He had never held Leonard with such gentleness before but in that still, quiet moment Leonard did not seem disturbed by his affection. Perhaps it was the subservience that allowed it to happen. Perhaps Leonard was still recovering from that morning, and being on his knees for Spock helped.

Spock considered looking into Leonard’s mind for the answers, but he found he didn’t wish to distract himself from Leonard quiet sounds of enjoyment as he ate, the feeling of Leonard pressed against his leg, the sensation of Leonard shivering with delight as Spock raked his fingers through his hair. Leonard sighed around another a salted peanut and his eyes fluttered shut, mouth still opening obediently each time Spock touched his lips.

He had fallen fast. Spock filed away this information for later. The meal was gone and Spock quietly replaced the cover. He took the corner of the napkin into his hand and gently wiped at Leonard’s lax mouth. Leonard lifted his head slowly, just enough for Spock to pull the napkin away and set it on the tray, and the Leonard was resting against his leg again.

The chronometer told him he had only a few more minutes of this simple pleasure before they both needed to return to work. Spock rested his hand on the back of Leonard’s neck, massaging gently. Leonard melted under the contact, a low groan slipping from between his lips as Spock touched him.

“Leonard?”

Silence but for breathing, then, “...Mm?

“Can you sit up? I wish to hold you.”

Leonard moved as if through water. He was remarkably suggestible like this as Spock pulled him up, moving hazy and slow as he usually did when their scenes were over. Leftover emotions, perhaps, from their disastrous morning. He sat Leonard in his lap and Leonard draped his arms around Spock’s neck. Spock held him, adoring how soft and pliant Leonard felt in his arms. He wanted to kiss the side of Leonard’s neck, the only spot near enough to his mouth, but the thought of the bruises hidden there stopped him.

Instead, he trickled finger-kisses down Leonard’s spine. Leonard sighed at the contact, legs spreading slightly. Spock knew they didn’t have time for that and so he stilled his hands.

But Leonard had other plans. He turned his face so that his lips brushed against Spock’s ear and Spock thrilled with arousal at the simple contact. “I’m still wearing it.”

Spock knew instantly what he meant. Against his bidding, his hands fell to Leonard’s bottom, dancing soft over Leonard’s uniform slacks. He pressed his fingers down and felt the plug shift within the body of his lover. Leonard’s breath hitched at the sensation.

He could have taken Leonard right then. The plug would have kept him open, loose enough that it would be easy to simply pull it aside and slip into the space created. He knew that was what Leonard wanted. He wondered: if he started, would Leonard beg him to stop?

His body heated with the need to know. He had never taken Leonard in a public place, and certainly never at work, although they had play-acted it often. He knew Leonard liked the idea of being forced in public, that the risk and terror of being found out made his heart stutter and his blood run hot, almost as hot as Spock’s.

Spock pressed at the plug within Leonard again, wondering what role Leonard would require of him to make this possible. “You want me inside of you?”

Leonard shifted and he laughed, sounding almost drunk. “What?” he asked. “I’m just playing.”

Ah. That one. It was not a difficult one to accomplish. Spock knew how it would go: Leonard playful, teasing, rubbing against Spock to arouse him. Spock would touch Leonard’s body, perhaps his nipples, his stomach, and Leonard would grind down on him, his bottom a sweet pressure on Spock’s slit, but when Spock touched his cock through his pants Leonard would bat him away. Turn stern maybe, or fearful. And Spock would say that Leonard was taunting him. Arousing him. That Leonard was too beautiful for words ( _d-don’t say that_ ) and that if Leonard was going to toy with him he needed to accept the consequences. Hands on Leonard’s hips. Leonard’s chest against the desk, legs kicked open. Calling Leonard beautiful again because it was that kind of scene. Whispering against Leonard’s neck that he was a tease, that he wanted it. And if he didn’t want it why was he so open, already wet for Spock? Made for Spock to take and use? Spock entering him as close-to-lovingly as they got and ( _please, wait please it was just a joke, I—_ ) Leonard begging him not to.

Spock’s grip around Leonard’s arms has grown fierce. He felt Leonard shift in discomfort at the force of it, confusion in the tension of his shoulders. Slowly, Spock relaxed his hands.

Maybe that was what Leonard needed right then. To be called beautiful by Spock, so beautiful that Spock could not control himself, could not stop himself from taking Leonard’s body as his own. Maybe that was what Leonard needed to feel whole again. Spock would do anything for Leonard, anything, but as he thought of that he felt sick. Twisted. He didn’t want to hear Leonard begging him to stop, knowing he would continue anyway.

“I must return to the bridge,” he said.

Leonard pulled away to look at him in surprise. Spock saw the moment his confusion slipped into self-loathing and Spock winced at the sight.

He wanted to say it wasn’t that. He loved Leonard, he found him arousing, beautiful, fascinating. It was his own hangups that prevented him from being everything Leonard needed. He tried to say something but he couldn’t find the words to explain his thoughts. He doubted Leonard would believe him anyway.

“That’s fine,” Leonard said, his face smoothing flat and expressionless. At another time Spock would have teased him for taking a leaf from the writings of Surak. But he said nothing. “I have some reports to file, anyway.”

Leonard slipped from his lap and stood, his face pink with embarrassment. Spock stood as well, pulling down the hem of his shirt.

“...Will you come to my quarters tonight?”

Leonard didn’t look at him, but he nodded. Spock relaxed at that. Leonard always came when he asked, always. Without fail. It was in his quarters where they could be together, if not anywhere else. He had thought Leonard wouldn’t want to come, but there was a certain sense of hopefulness in his face that made Spock ache.

He thought of telling Leonard he was working on a new scene, but it would have been a lie. Instead, he nodded as well, feeling foolish. “Tonight, then. Good day, Doctor.”

Leonard nodded his goodbye, distant but not cold. “Mr. Spock.”

And Spock returned to the bridge.

—

Spock was forced to admit that thoughts of Leonard had fully subsumed his attention. He performed his bridge duties with utmost precision, but his mind was not fully on the task. Partway through his shift he had a sandwich brought to him and he ate it glumly, ignoring Jim’s watchful gaze. Everyone had seen him leave for lunch, and yet now he was eating on the bridge. He knew it must seem strange to them.

He regretted not having done as Leonard wanted and taken him in his office. At the time he had been too caught up in his own thoughts to do as Leonard needed, but looking back Spock knew he would have enjoyed it as well. He always did. The moment Leonard began to struggle Spock would lose track of why it was illogical to enjoy pinning his lover down, opening his squirming body with his hands, forcing his way inside as Leonard shuddered around him. Spock wondered what it was that Leonard awakened inside of him, if it was some ancient instinct from Vulcan’s barbarian past, or of it was simply something particular about Spock that made him take perverse enjoyment out of the things they did together. Perhaps it was neither. Perhaps it was just the echoes of Leonard’s pleasure that made him feel this way, the knowledge that what he did gave Leonard something he needed desperately, completed them both.

He went back to his quarters immediately after his shift ended. Leonard had not yet arrived, and Spock stood in the center of the living room feeling lost. He wanted to hold Leonard close. Smell his hair. Kiss his grumpy face. He want to tell Leonard how much he loved him. Maybe he could work it into a scene, pick up where they had left of in Leonard’s office. He enjoyed it when they played like that. When Leonard took pleasure in seducing him. Maybe they could do that again.

If Leonard would ever arrive. Spock watched the chronometer with a growing sense of trepidation, but still Leonard did not come. Perhaps he had decided not to. Decided that Spock wasn’t worth his time now that Spock had refused to play a game with him. Spock knew it was irrational; the thoughts stayed regardless, turning over in his mind.

He was just about to ask the computer where Leonard was when his door chimed. Spock took a deep breath, mental controls slipping into place as he cordoned off the unreasonable emotions to be dealt with later.

“Enter,” he said.

The door shushed open and Leonard stepped inside. He looked tired, hair slightly mussed, his uniform top wrinkled from the day’s work. Just looking at him made Spock burn, arousal swirling together with the utter need to protect his Leonard.

“Sorry I’m late,” Leonard said, speaking casually. As if they were work colleagues only, merely meeting up for dinner. “Ensign Percy fell of the rock wall again and needed two hours under the bone knitter.”

Spock would likely need to file the paperwork for that tomorrow, and he raised his brow in surprise. “I will have to have a discussion about safety with Ensign Percy. That is the third time in two months.”

Leonard nodded, smiling wryly. “Good luck with that. I’ve already tried browbeating him and giving him a twenty minute lecture, and still he doesn’t listen to reason.”

They were two yards apart. Leonard hadn’t walked any closer since the door had closed behind him, and Spock was too uncertain to move himself. He felt the distance between them keenly, sharply, filled to the brim with all the things they weren’t saying. Would never say. He remembered how good it had felt to have Leonard at his knee that afternoon, simple and easy. He wanted that again but he wasn’t entirely sure how to get it. Perhaps, if Leonard wanted it too…

Leonard twitched and Spock realized he had been staring when Leonard looked away. His hand came to his mouth as it always did when Leonard was deep in thought, blue eyes gazing at the wall as if it held the answers to all life’s questions.

“Spock, I—” Leonard hesitated, face shifting as he rethought his words. “What scene is this?”

Spock blinked in surprise. He could count on one hand the number of times Leonard had actually asked him what they would be doing, and they had all been very early on in their relationship. Gradually Spock had come to understand that the question wasn’t for Leonard, it was for Spock. That Leonard preferred not to know. The next time he had asked Spock had slapped him, molded the question into the scene itself, and Leonard had twisted beneath him more aroused than ever before as the realism intensified. After that he hadn’t asked again.

The fact that he was asking now meant something between them had changed. Spock wasn’t sure if that was for better or worse, but he had to answer honestly.

He stepped forward and closed the distance between them. He watched as Leonard’s heart rate picked up, his breathing coming fast. Maybe he thought Spock would hit him. Maybe he hoped for that. But Spock did not. He cupped the back of Leonard’s neck gently, shockingly so, and pulled Leonard’s face to his, kissing Leonard’s surprised mouth so fast that they hardly touched at all.

He pulled away, embarrassed and hoping the emotion didn’t show on his face. “There is no scene tonight, Leonard.”

Leonard blinked at him, saying nothing. Spock could see the gears turning in his head as he attempted to parse the words. No scene? How would they know how to interact with one another?

Spock couldn’t bear to watch him think like that, and so he closed the distance between them again, kissing Leonard with a passion that startled them both. Leonard’s lips were dry and slightly chapped and Spock licked at the seam of them, drawing his tongue over Leonard’s plush bottom lip and silently begging him to let him have this, just this one thing. Leonard was tense beneath him and Spock knew it was taking every ounce of his energy not to bolt for the door. But finally, amazingly, Leonard opened for him.

He slipped into Leonard’s mouth and wondered if he was sending Leonard the wrong message by kissing him like this—with his hand wrapped around the back of Leonard’s head, his body pressed full against Leonard’s, feeling him from chest to knee. But once he tasted Leonard’s sweetness he could not bring himself to pull away and he kissed Leonard in the living room, licking around the softness of his lips, his hard teeth, the roof of his mouth that made Leonard shiver as he tickled it. He kissed Leonard because it was easier than talking, and because Leonard was irresistible to him.

But Leonard never stopped standing stiffly in his arms, never really seemed to grow to enjoy it, and with reluctance Spock finally moved away. He kissed Leonard’s slack lips once more and pulled back to watch Leonard’s face.

His eyes were closed. Eyebrows drawn together. Mouth turned down in a frown. He looked confused. Disbelieving. Spock ached at the sight of him, knowing then that it wasn’t that Leonard did not want to enjoy it, but merely that he was afraid to let himself.

“Sorry, I—” Leonard’s mouth snapped shut and he shifted uncomfortably. “You can keep doing that, if you want.”

Spock thought of how Leonard had begged him not to leave him as he lay on the floor, twisted in misery, and he shook his head. “I enjoy kissing you,” he said before he could stop himself.

Leonard looked away and Spock cursed every person who had left Leonard like this, distrustful of honest affection, fearful of accepting love. Leonard tipped his cheek up, a silent offering.

Spock thought of slipping into Leonard’s mind and reading his thoughts. He knew Leonard would allow it. But he did not wish to. It had become too easy to do that, and too hard to give Leonard the time he needed to find his words.

Leonard did find them, slowly as Spock refused to take his mind. “It’s...fine. We don’t have to do a scene if you don’t want.” He glanced at Spock and then away again. “But just...This plug is getting distracting.”

Spock was honestly surprised Leonard was still wearing it after Spock had refused him earlier. “I assumed you would have taken it out.”

Leonard glared at him but didn’t say anything. ( _of course not. you put it there_.)

Still, the glare made Spock’s mood lighten. He dropped his hands to the waist of Leonard’s uniform slacks and undid the magnetic seal. Leonard leaned his head forward, resting lightly against Spock’s shoulder as Spock pushed down the black fabric just to the tops of Leonard’s thighs.

It was the control, Spock realized as he felt Leonard shaking beneath him. Leonard was aroused by how Spock controlled him, controlled the situation, without having to use an ounce of physical force. Spock was the one who controlled whether he felt pleasure or pain, and that made either sensation just as good as the other. Spock ran his hands over Leonard’s round bottom and slipped his fingers into the crack. Leonard gasped as his fingers closed around the base of the plug.

“Breathe out,” he whispered, and only belatedly realized he was controlling Leonard’s breath once again.

But Leonard did, relaxing as Spock pulled the plug out slowly, carefully so as not to hurt Leonard. He had the thought that if this had been earlier, with Leonard sprawled out on the desk, hands gripping the metal, he would not have been so gentle. The gentleness seemed to startle Leonard, or at least made him gasp quietly.

Leonard didn’t move once the plug was gone. He stayed leaning against Spock as Spock refastened his slacks, considering his options.

“Go and clean yourself,” he said, rubbing his hand over the small of Leonard’s back.

Leonard arched up into his palm and then stopped, going stiff as he seemed to realize what he was doing. He took a step back and nodded curtly, turning on his heel to disappear into the bathroom.

Spock took a moment to gather his thoughts. He went into the bedroom and set the plug aside to be disinfected, his eyes falling to the stain on the floor where Leonard had come that morning. He felt distant from it. Detached. He cleaned it up with a piece of tissue and then made the still-rumpled bed.

Leonard was still in the bathroom when Spock finished pressing the sheets down, ruler-straight, and Spock idly wondered what it would look like to shove Leonard onto them, rut against him until they were tangled again.

Spock looked at the mirror above the vanity and frowned at himself. “This is not a scene,” he said aloud, but quietly, a command issued only to himself. He had sent Leonard away so that he could have time to calm himself, not to let himself grow distracted with even more thoughts of that nature.

His clothes suddenly felt constricting and he began tearing them off. He shoved his uniform top into the receptacle and threw open his closet, glaring at the rows of identical uniforms hanging there.

In the bathroom, water began to run.

What would it be like if this thing between them were more like a romance? If their scenes were the artificial friendliness of a date, scripts filled with inquiries of polite interest rather than violence? Spock knew it would be an act like any other, but still. It would have been a pleasant change of pace.

He didn’t have very many civilian clothes. He pulled on his grey flat-fronted pants and considered his shirts, even though he already knew full-well what he would be wearing. After a moment of listening to the water run Spock pulled out the white button-down shirt.

Leonard had gotten it for him before they had started this relationship. Quite a while before, in fact, during the first year of the mission when he was still distant and cold and Leonard was cross with him more often than not. Leonard had ordered him to take a shore leave and Spock had categorically refused, finally stating that he would have nothing to wear ( _well, that’s no excuse_ ). The shirt had fit him perfectly.

It was slightly too small now. Spock was broader now than he had been then and the shirt was tight across his chest. He buttoned it all the way up and then shifted in discomfort, undoing the top button only. He tucked it into the waist of his pants. It was cut in an Earth-style and he always felt odd in it, like a slightly different person. But he still remembered the way Leonard had looked at him in the transporter room when he’d seen him wearing it: warm. Affectionate. It had been the first spark of something different than mere antagonism between them.

Spock smoothed down his hair and then, before he could stop himself, he keyed open the bathroom door.

Leonard startled as he entered the room. Leonard was kneeling beside the bathtub, one arm trailing over the edge to feel the water that was pouring into it. He was naked. Exposed. Leonard’s gaze swept over him, catching with interest on his chest, his hips. Spock warmed at the attention, and warmed still further as Leonard’s hot gaze shifted into a glare.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?” he groused.

Spock raised his brow. “I assumed if you did not wish for me to enter you would have locked the door.”

The look on Leonard’s face told Spock he had assumed correctly, but Leonard quickly hid it with an eyeroll. “Damned nosy Vulcans trying to catch a peek at the pinnacle of human perfection.” He said it with sarcasm.

Spock still nodded. “Obviously.” He stood near the door and folded his hands behind his back, observing Leonard. He had a good view as the blush that started on Leonard’s chest and rushed up his neck at the embarrassment of being watched so closely. “Do you require assistance?”

Leonard turned his pink face away, muttering, “I’m capable of washing myself.”

“Of course,” Spock said. Now that Leonard’s back was turned he began to sneak forward, the sound of water splashing covering his bare footfalls. “Allow me to rephrase,” he said, now just a step behind Leonard. He reached out slowly. “Would you _like_ assistance?”

Leonard jumped as Spock’s hand came to rest at the back of his neck. He turned and looked up at Spock, seeming very small and vulnerable as Spock began to run his fingers through Leonard’s hair. Leonard shifted, lifting his head towards the touch.

“It’s not...a big deal,” he said after a moment. “I can handle myself. You don’t have to.”

“I wish to,” Spock said.

And then it wasn’t a scene, not exactly, but it was still the aftermath of one. They were still both recovering from that morning and Leonard clearly felt it most of all, slipped easily into that soft and pliable place where he almost believed Spock cared. Or at least, he trusted that Spock would _take_ care of him. Leonard was at his feet, looking so utterly defenseless as he let Spock touch his hair, his gaze downcast.

“...It’d be easier for you just to force me.”

Spock considered. “Would you like me to?”

“No,” Leonard said, shrugging in a way that made it a real _no_ not the other kind ( _if it isn’t real it can’t hurt me when it’s gone_ ). “Just saying it’d be easier, is all.”

It was the most honest Leonard had ever been with him and Spock rewarded that honesty by lightly tugging on Leonard’s hair. Leonard relaxed at the sensation, rising easily as Spock pulled him to his feet.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered, and Leonard did, standing naked and sensitive, utterly at his mercy as Spock kissed his lips, pressing finger-kisses to the back of Leonard’s head to urge him forward. He got lost in the sensation as Leonard opened for him easily and for a moment it felt like it was only them in the universe, alone together.

After far too short a time Leonard pulled away, lips moist and eyes dilated with pleasure, to murmur, “Tub’s gonna overflow.”

Spock looked and saw that indeed it was. He quickly reached down and turned off the faucet. Behind him, Leonard stifled a chuckle. Spock unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and rolled it up, reaching into the water to pull the plug and let some of it out.

He glanced back over his shoulder at where Leonard was watching him with an odd look on his face. Not quite vulnerability, not quite comfort.

Leonard shifted. “Sometimes I have trouble washing my back,” he offered, an olive branch.

Spock nodded. “I will assist you.” He stopped the drain again.

Spock held out his hand and Leonard took it, using Spock for balance as he carefully stepped over the side of the tub and into the warm water. He knelt and the water swirled around his soft skin, flowing between his legs and over the bruises there. The sight of them pinched at something inside of Spock and he had to force himself not to reach out and touch Leonard there.

He rolled up his other sleeve and picked up a washcloth and the washing powder. Leonard watched him work the cloth into a lather, eyes hooded.

Leonard bent forward and Spock began with his back, scrubbing at him methodically, gently. He wished that they could have done this earlier, this morning, rather than the quick wipedown that had been all he could provide for Leonard at the time. Spock wanted to care for Leonard, to apologize for the damage he had done.

He touched Leonard everywhere, his hands hungry for the sensation of Leonard’s wet skin beneath him. He chased the washcloth with his other hand, trailing his fingers through the white bubbles that sluiced over Leonard’s back. The water created a slight barrier between them and Spock could feel it. It deadened the connection between them. He knew if he were to try to meld with Leonard then it would be difficult, swimming through the murky deeps, reaching for Leonard but never touching.

Leonard hummed under his hands, seeming content, and Spock felt a sense of deep disappointment. He knew that Leonard could be like this only rarely, only after he’d hurt him severely enough that it all evened out and Leonard swung back to the other side, like a pendulum.

He brought his hand around to press against Leonard’s sternum, guiding him back to lounge against the sloped back of the tub with his legs stretched out in the water. Leonard could watch him now, and he did, icy blue gaze following Spock’s movements as he dipped the washcloth in the water and then gathered up more soap.

He scrubbed at Leonard’s chest, gentle in places he knew were sensitive. He knew Leonard’s body well, now. Knew which parts of him lit with pain at the slightest touch. Which parts could push Leonard undone in the blink of an eye. He was careful around Leonard’s nipples, now pebbled as the water evaporated, cooling them. He ran the warm washcloth over Leonard’s skin to sooth the goosebumps that had risen and then dipped below the water to Leonard’s soft stomach, petting him.

Leonard sighed and shifted his legs apart incrementally. His cock was half-hard, floating in the water, and the sight of it made Spock’s slit thrum with arousal. He wanted Leonard so badly, so desperately—but this wasn’t about that. If Leonard wanted him to touch him, he would. But Spock couldn’t focus on his own pleasure.

He trailed down Leonard’s hip, watching his face carefully for any sign of distress. Leonard didn’t seem distressed. He seemed to be floating, his eyelashes fluttering slowly as he blinked. Spock brushed against his bruised inner thigh and felt Leonard twitch beneath his hand, his breath catching in his chest. Spock hand slipped down, a little lower, utterly of its own accord, the water dancing towards his rolled-up sleeve.

Leonard moved then, slowly, as if he himself were water. He made hardly a ripple. His hand closed around Spock’s wrist and held him there, the base of Spock’s palm just beneath the soft skin of his external testicles.

“I cleaned myself out,” Leonard said, so quiet that Spock could hardly hear him, his pupils so wide and blown that Spock was astonished he didn’t fall into them. “Before I ran the bath.”

Spock hesitated. He wondered if that meant Leonard wanted to be touched, or if he merely expected it. Had he known Spock would come in? Had he expected to be bent over the lip of the tub fast, face dangerously close to the water? Did he want Spock to hold him under, bubbles trickling up as Spock took him?

Spock shook himself. No, he realized painfully. Those were his own fantasies.

With the water he couldn’t check Leonard’s thoughts, and so instead he asked, “Would you like me to touch you? Or would you like me to finish cleaning you?”

Leonard’s eyes remained glazed. He blinked slowly and then released his grip on Spock’s wrist, his arm floating lazily up in the water. He leaned his head back against the wall. Leonard looked so relaxed. It would have been so easy just to slide inside of his body, finger him open. Spock could crawl in on top of him and curl over him, rub their erections together as he held Leonard down, kissed his mouth to swallow any hint of _no_.

Instead, he held very still until Leonard said, “This is fine.”

Spock returned to his task. He washed Leonard’s long legs and knobby knees. He felt protective of the bruises, still raised and welted, on Leonard’s ankles. It must have hurt him to walk today and Spock spent a long time rubbing Leonard’s feet until Leonard’s shoulders had gone completely relaxed, his breathing gentle. Leonard had sunk during his ministrations, submerged but for his face. His hair feathered out around his head, flowing in the clear water.

He touched just the corner of the washcloth to Leonard’s face, gently brushing away any potential grime. And then Leonard was just looking up at him, face smooth as he floated there.

“Your hair?”

Leonard nodded and wiggled upwards again. He sat hunched forward but with his head held back as Spock applied a liberal amount of shampoo to his hair, trying not to watch the way Leonard’s throat bobbed as he began to scrub.

It was enticing, however. Spock knew it must still hurt even to swallow, but Leonard bore the pain beautifully. Spock was careful not to get even a molecule of soap near Leonard’s eyes as he washed his hair, kneading with his fingers.

Leonard shivered. A low noise rumbled out of him, nearly a moan. He glanced at Spock with clear embarrassment and Spock pretended not to have heard. Leonard was silent after that.

Spock washed him for far longer than necessary. They both knew it, but neither said anything. Finally, Spock let his hands drop.

“I'll help you rinse.”

“I can do it myself.”

His words, the shape of them—his meaning was clearly the opposite of what he had said. Spock burned at the raw desire in Leonard’s voice. He knew what Leonard wanted—he knew what _he_ wanted. But he couldn’t. “Leonard, this isn’t a scene.”

Only, maybe it was. The scene where they pretended a bath could just be a bath. Pretended that Leonard wasn’t falling apart at the seams just because Spock was manhandling him, touching him everywhere because every part of Leonard was _his_. The scene where they pretended they were normal. The scene that shouldn’t have been.

Leonard shut his eyes tight. Tipped his head forward so that soap ran over his temple and dripped into the water. “Please,” he whispered. “Don’t make me ask.”

And so Spock didn’t. He reached out and ran his thumb over Leonard’s arm, unwrapped the tight grip Leonard had around his knees. He lay Leonard out flat again and Leonard floated, pristine and perfect, in the water. Spock held his head in his hands, palms over Leonard’s ears.

His eyes were still closed.

“Can you hear me?” he whispered.

Leonard gave no response.

He squeezed to let Leonard know it was coming, waiting for Leonard to take a deep and shuddering breath, and then pushed him down, dunking Leonard under the water. Leonard’s eyes were tightly shut, tiny bubbles caught in the lashes. Spock held him there and felt deep sorrow rise up in his throat.

“I love you,” Spock whispered, because Leonard couldn’t hear him, because Leonard couldn’t know, and then he began to rinse the suds from Leonard’s hair.

It took only a few moments and then he pulled Leonard up again, all the way up, until Leonard was standing in the knee-deep water, shaking. Leonard was still hard and Spock wanted to touch him but he was afraid to. Afraid of what he might do, how he might lose himself to the sensation of Leonard under his hands, and so instead he busied himself with unstopping the drain. He turned on the shower head to give Leonard one last rinse and Leonard jumped under the spray, wiping at his face to dispel water from his eyes.

He turned off the shower and grabbed the largest towel he had. It was made of soft terrycloth and was big enough to wrap around Leonard twice and he did that, tugging Leonard forward. Leonard stepped over the tub’s edge with shaky legs and Spock wasn’t surprised when Leonard feigned falling against him. He was wet to hold but Spock still held him, supporting him, giving Leonard what he needed but was too afraid to ask for.

Spock dried Leonard as best he could given the position. Gradually, Leonard’s shaking grew more gentle, less violent, finally spiraling to a stop and he was just standing there as Spock rubbed the towel over his back, soothing.

His hands gradually slowed, then stilled. He seriously considered just standing there like this forever, but he knew that wasn’t possible.

“Can you walk?”

Leonard grumbled in his arms. “Can I walk? Of course I can—hey!”

Spock scooped him up, one arm under his legs, the other at his shoulders, and carried him as he had this morning. Leonard struggled a moment, clutching at the front of Spock’s shirt.

“Damned overconfident broccoli. You’d better not drop me!”

“I will not, if you discontinue your struggle.”

Leonard stilled and held on tight as Spock walked from the bathroom. “Watch the puddle,” Leonard warned, and Spock sidestepped it easily.

He carried Leonard into the bedroom and laid him down on the bed. Leonard looked lovely there, his body still rosy and pink from the heat of the bath, wet in most places because Spock had done a poor job drying him. Spock tucked the towel tighter around Leonard’s midsection and legs as Leonard tried to shove him away.

“Knock that off. I’m not some blushing bride.”

Spock wondered if Leonard had wanted to say that this morning, when Spock had carried him similarly. If Leonard had ran the words over and over in his mind, loathing the missed opportunity to pretend that nothing was wrong. He arched his brow. “I did not intend to imply that you were.” He smoothed the terrycloth over Leonard’s leg and didn’t miss how Leonard’s hips lifted expectantly.

Leonard quickly tried to hide the reaction. “Stop staring.”

Spock obediently looked away.

“I—” Leonard grumbled. “That’s not what I meant,” he said.

Spock looked back, both eyebrows up now. “I apologize. My, as you say, ‘thick Vulcan skull’ must have warped the sound waves as they approached.”

Leonard laughed, apparently surprised and delighted. “Finally, you realize what I’ve been telling you all along.”

Spock looked down at Leonard with utter fondness. He had the sudden urge, like an ache in his throat, to lie down beside his lover curl around him, kiss him gently, run his hands through Leonard’s wet hair. He wanted to hold Leonard more than anything in the universe. Leonard seemed so open and happy. Maybe he would let him.

Suddenly Leonard stiffened, his face falling. He looked away from Spock, one hand coming to rest on his stomach. “...Thoughts on dinner?” he asked, a distraction.

Spock hadn’t given it any thought, and he regretted that now. “I have not prepared anything. If you wish, we could go to the cafeteria.”

Leonard grumbled to match his stomach. He stretched both arms above his head, the towel slipping dangerously high but still not-quite-exposing him. “Sounds terrible. Then I’d have to get dressed.”

“Yes,” Spock said wryly. “Truly no worse a fate can be imagined.”

“Glad we agree.” Leonard smirked at him. “Why don’t you see what you can go scrounge up for us?”

Spock wondered at Leonard’s intentions, but he did nod. “I will return shortly.”

Twice today he had been forced to leave Leonard during an intimacy to fetch a meal. He would have to plan ahead better next time, or install a replicator in his room. But if he did that he and Leonard may find it impossible to find any reason to leave.

He left Leonard lying there, relaxed and at ease, and stepped out into the hall. His walk to the mess hall was thoughtful, and he found himself wondering why Leonard had shooed him out. He imagined that Leonard was taking the opportunity to do what Spock had not done for him earlier and touch himself. Perhaps he would return to find Leonard had kicked off the towel and was lying naked, his erection in his hands, body twisting in pleasure. A challenge in his eyes.

On any other day Spock would have been practicing the lines in his head, imagining how to shape it into a scene, rehearsing what he would say in response to Leonard’s exclamation of surprise ( _didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock_ ). He frowned, discarding the thought and focusing on gathering two trays of food. To all who suspected he was sleeping with someone, here was another glaring piece of evidence. That and the civilian attire he wore. He tried to ignore the stares of the crew but he realized they were trained on one particular place.

Ah. Two of the buttons on his shirt had come undone, plunging the neckline far down his chest. Spock quickly redid them and picked up the trays.

He walked back to his quarters at a measured pace, irrationally wishing to give Leonard some time alone. Even if Leonard was not...seeing to himself, Spock worried that he may have overwhelmed his lover. And so he walked slowly, tray rattling with his steps.

But he couldn’t walk forever, and eventually he was home.

He chimed the door just so Leonard would know he was there and stepped inside. His quarters were much the same as when he had left. Nothing seemed disturbed. He stepped into the bedroom and saw Leonard was still lying there, wrapped up in the towel and nothing else. Leonard had found a datapadd, however, and was reading it silently.

Leonard looked up as he entered, mouth softening into something approaching a smile.

Spock thrilled at the sight of him. “What are you reading?”

Leonard hummed. “Found it on your desk. Is that alright?”

Spock hesitated. He knew what it was that Leonard had found, and the thought made him warm with embarrassment. It was a collection of human poetry that Spock had been poring over, desperate to gain some understanding of what Leonard might be experiencing. “Yes,” he said after the silence had stretched too long. “Of course.” He lifted the tray of food. “Do you wish to eat, or keep reading?”

“Just let me finish this one.”

Spock nodded. He circled around the bed and set the tray down on the bedside table. He looked over and saw that Leonard was still intent on the padd, his eyes scanning the page quickly sometimes, and then more slowly as if he had to soak in the words. He looked very focused, his legs poking out the bottom of the towel, his hair still damp but frizzy now. He seemed relaxed and Spock hesitated for only a moment before slipping onto the bed beside him.

He settled down against the pillow and waited for Leonard to finish the poem he was on. He tried not to stare too openly, but that was a lost cause. Looking away from Leonard seemed an impossible task. As he watched Leonard read Leonard shifted, his gaze sliding over to Spock and then snapping back to the padd. A smile played at the corner of his lips, tucked hidden behind a frown.

In the end, the smile won. “...Do you want to hear it?”

Spock nodded.

Leonard’s voice was soft, gentle as he read, filling the quiet space of Spock’s quarters and Spock watched him, entranced. Leonard had never read to him before.

 _As long as the sky whirls_  
_You will be my redemption and my doom,_  
_magnetic vision,_  
_lily in underwear,_  
_salvation and madness_  
_every night waiting._  
_As long as the sky whirls_  
_no infernal could be a stranger_  
_because I have to take care that that would not harm you,_  
_No joy would go by inadvertent_  
_Because in some way I have to reveal it to you,_  
_As long as_  
_the sky_  
_whirls_  
_you will be the truth of myself,_  
_the song and the venom,_  
_the danger and the ecstasies,_  
_the vigil and the sleep,_  
_the dread and the miracle._  
_As long as the sky whirls... but perhaps the sky whirls?_ _  
Well: as long as the sky exists._

After, Leonard let silence fall. He thumbed off the padd and rested it against his bare chest, turning to look at Spock curiously. Spock let him look, feeling oddly as if Leonard were seeing him for the first time—or perhaps he was seeing Leonard. He had shared so much with Leonard, been inside his head with him, felt the emotions as Leonard felt them. He had been in Leonard’s body, been wrapped around him, held him, fought him, kissed him. But this was...different. Spock wondered if this was another thing he wasn’t supposed to talk about.

Leonard blinked and the spell broke. “Spock would you… like to watch a movie?”

The request was so banal as to be shocking. Spock almost did not know how to answer but then he nodded hastily. “Yes, of course. Did you have one in mind?”

“I’ll find something.” Leonard tugged the towel up around his chest, holding it closed as he pushed himself up. Spock watched as he crawled to the foot of the bed and touched a switch on the wall. The panel there slid open to reveal the screen, and Leonard quickly accessed the film library and began to search through it.

Leonard’s hips swayed, terrycloth close and clinging to his skin. Spock tore his gaze away, feeling the space beside him on the bed and seeing that it was cool to the touch, slightly damp. He hoped Leonard would not catch a cold. He wanted to suggest that Leonard get dressed again but something stopped him. Leonard seemed comfortable like this, although Spock had expected him to be awkward and shy in his nudity. He rarely liked to be naked unless Spock was rending his clothes from his body or he had passed out after a scene. But Leonard was relaxed, at ease, and Spock didn’t want to take that from him.

Finally, Leonard settled on a simple-looking comedy. He scooched backwards on the bed and leaned against the shelf, curling his knees beneath him as the movie began to play. The towel drooped down his chest as he settled in, one hand splayed over the rise of his hip.

Spock realized he was staring at Leonard and he looked away, turning to gather their dinner. He lifted the lid and considered what he had brought.

It had not been his intention, but Spock saw that once again he had gotten finger-foods for their meal: thinly sliced melon and protein cubes, a smear of soft cheese and crackers to eat it with. The only exception was the slice of vanilla cake, its white frosting speckled with cut strawberries, a large decorative strawberry on top. Such fruit was a rare treat after so many years in space. Spock thought back to that afternoon, when he had kept Leonard on his knees to feed him, the softness in Leonard’s frame as he submitted to Spock’s care. He realized he wanted that again. He wanted to dote on Leonard, shower him in affection. He wanted to worship Leonard so that Leonard did not have to lift a finger to have all his needs met by Spock.

He didn’t realize how lost in thought he was until he felt Leonard shift beside him. “Spock? Something wrong with the food?”

Spock turned to him, melting at the sight of him. Spock truly had no control when he looked at his love. “There is no problem,” Spock said. “I was merely...contemplating how best to eat in bed.”

Leonard had moved very close to him, his chest against Spock’s ribs as he peered over Spock’s body at the tray. “You’ve never done this before, huh?”

Before he could respond Leonard reached over him and picked up a soft green cube, holding it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. “We’ll just use our hands,” he said conversationally. “That’d be easier than trying to balance a fork.” He popped the cube in this mouth and chewed thoughtfully, watching the screen as if the entirety of his attention wasn’t trained on Spock’s every move.

Spock read between the lines and saw Leonard’s intentions were anything but pure ( _I want to be on my knees for you_ ), but he did not dispute Leonard’s logic. “Agreed,” he said, settling back against the wall as well and pulling the tray to the edge of the bedside table.

He lifted his arm and Leonard looked surprised for a moment before steeling himself, moving awkwardly to curl against Spock’s side, his head on Spock’s chest, one hand on Spock’s stomach. He was stiff and unyielding, but Spock’s heart soared at the contact. Spock held him close and picked up a slice of melon, wet and sticky in his fingers, and offered it to Leonard.

Leonard sighed. Relaxed incrementally. He opened his mouth and accepted the gift, chewing quietly as Spock ate his own piece of melon.

Spock fed them both as the movie droned on. He had missed the setup due to his concerns over the food, but he gathered that the main plot had to do with the romantic tension the lead actress felt for her best friend and her business rival. The plot was thin at best but Leonard seemed entranced by the flashing screen. He watched quietly, moving only to open his mouth each time Spock offered him a bit of fruit, or a cube of protein, or a crisp cracker dipped in cheese. Occasionally Leonard laughed at the comedy on the screen.

It felt good to hold Leonard like this. It felt right. The control was not forced but it was still there, a warm blanket enveloping them, an unspoken agreement that Leonard would give himself utterly to Spock. Trust Spock to know what was best for him, and that what was best for him tonight was to eat a fine meal and chuckle at the romantic exploits of imagined characters.

Between them, they finished the majority of the food on the tray. Spock read Leonard’s body as he grew full: his chewing slowed, his mouth turned disinterested.

Spock considered the piece of cake, uncertain. It was certainly not made to be handled. He felt Leonard shift against his stomach and settle again, sighing peacefully. He watched Leonard’s soft face and his heart thudded in his side. He looked as he had that morning: soft. At rest. Utterly open and made for Spock to touch and hold and possess. Spock didn’t look away from Leonard as he reached, unseeing, and plucked the strawberry from the cake.

The fruit was plump, red and firm, and he touched it to Leonard’s equally blushed and full lips. Leonard parted them and Spock slipped the fruit inside his mouth. His teeth came down, crushing the fruit. A thin bead of red juice spilled out and Spock chased it with his finger, catching the drop and pushing it back into Leonard’s waiting mouth. Leonard’s tongue curled around his digit easily, as if that were its natural resting position, as if Leonard had merely been waiting for him to slip inside all this time.

Spock’s breathing had gone ragged. He quickly took back his hand and set the green top of the strawberry back on the plate. He picked up the slice of cake, moist and crumbling in his hand. He cupped it and brought it down to Leonard’s waiting mouth.

Leonard shifted, turning so that he could get a better angle, his hand coming to rest on the other side of Spock’s hip as he held himself over the trunk of Spock’s body, and took a small bite of cake between his lips. He chewed, and although he was quiet Spock felt he could hear nothing else. The film was white noise in the background, forgettable at best. Leonard mouthed at the frosting, pulling the cake into his mouth with his clever tongue as Spock held it for him. Crumbs fell but Spock paid them no mind. He couldn’t look away as Leonard ate from the palm of his hand, lips brushing against Spock’s skin soft and silky, head bowing down, shoulders flexing, throat moving fluid and sweet as he swallowed.

Did it still hurt? Did Leonard’s throat ache to swallow that which Spock gave him? Spock wondered, and the thought made him realize what he was doing, how this must seem to Leonard. This wasn’t supposed to be a scene but the way Leonard ate from his hand—how could he interpret it as anything else?

Leonard had finished the cake and his mouth opened, lips curling around the tip of Spock’s finger to suckle gently, dissolving the smear of frosting. Spock twitched inside his mouth, wanting desperately to push his fingers in. It always aroused him to make Leonard suck on his fingers, to take his mouth with his hands. He knew Leonard would let him do it. That he could hold Leonard down and slide over his soft, slick tongue, kiss the flutter of his throat with the tips of his fingers.

He withdrew his hand. Leonard followed after apparently unconsciously, a low whimper escaping his lips.

He reached over and took the cloth napkin in his hand, wiping his shaking fingers. Spock was desperate to get control of himself and so he focused on wiping Leonard’s mouth. Leonard shifted as the moment faded away.

“...Crumbs everywhere,” he muttered.

Indeed there were. Spock sat up and Leonard knelt on the bed, and together they brushed all the crumbs off onto the floor to be swept up later. On the screen, the protagonist failed to notice as her business rival gazed at her from across the room.

“This must upset your Vulcan sense of propriety,” Leonard teased as they finished cleaning the bedspread.

“Further evidence as to why eating in bed is not recommended.” Spock frowned and picked up a piece of broken cracker. Where had that even come from?

He leaned back against the wall and without thinking held out his arm for Leonard to again rest against his chest. But Leonard did not move. Concern gripped Spock as he watched Leonard, kneeling there on the bed, towel drooping down beneath his arms to expose just the barest hint of his nipples. Leonard was watching him with interest, his gaze on Spock’s chest.

Spock touched the spot where Leonard’s eyes rested. Oh. His shirt had come unbuttoned again. He redid them hastily, not wanting Leonard to get the wrong idea.

But Leonard surprised him, stilling his hand with a soft touch and suddenly Leonard was very close indeed, his back straight and head held tall as he gazed down at Spock. Just the sight of him made Spock’s body hum with desire, the eternal flame of arousal flickering within him. Then Leonard’s hands were on his chest, palms flat, fingers splaying out, and Spock lifted up and into his touch.

He couldn’t stop his soft exhalation of desire as Leonard touched him through his shirt, thumbs warm and gentle on Spock’s sensitive chest. He had always been sensitive there but he hardly got the chance to experience it. It was difficult to get Leonard to touch him like this when what Leonard really wanted was to be held against the ground, Spock warm against his back.

Spock’s mind went blank as Leonard touched him; his mouth fell open. He felt Leonard’s warm breath ghosting over his lips and then the taste of sweet vanilla and strawberries. He realized he was gripping Leonard’s arms, drawing him in, desperate for Leonard’s touch on his chest as Leonard drew faint circles around his peaking nipples, flicked over them so that the fabric of his shirt caught rough and sensual, drew down to cup the shape of his pectoral and trickle over the sensitive skin there.

In the film, something crashed. Glass breaking.

Spock pulled away quickly, dizzy. His head swam with arousal; his slit was wet and thrumming between his legs to the beat of his thudding heart. He grasped Leonard’s hands to still them, shaking his head.

“Leonard, we don’t—this isn’t a scene.”

Leonard looked at him as if he were an idiot, but fondly. “I know,” he said.

Spock finished fastening his shirt, his fingers slipping awkwardly over the slick buttons. He felt shame and he tried to ignore the feeling. He did not ever wish to feel ashamed of loving Leonard. The shame made his words more violent than he intended. “You do not need to debase yourself just to keep my interest.”

Leonard sat back on his heels and Spock instantly regretted his words. He would have taken them back if he could. He sat up hurriedly, intending to apologize but Leonard raised his hand to silence him. He didn’t seem upset, merely contemplative.

“...I know,” Leonard said again, after a long moment, his words slow and painful, as if Leonard had to tear each one from his chest. “That’s not...That’s only...part of it.”

And of course Spock knew that. The unspoken words between them were for Leonard; all of it was for Leonard, and Spock was glad to give it to him. He reached out and touched Leonard’s bare shoulder apologetically.

“Can you tell me?”

Leonard opened his mouth and then closed it. He shrugged his shoulders in defeat, looking annoyed and faintly amused with himself.

“Then show me.”

Obediently, Leonard tipped his face into position, submissive and trusting. Spock thought of how exposed he was, only the thin terrycloth between him and the universe, and even that was wrinkled now, draped over his spread thighs so that Spock could see the yellowed bruises peeking out.

He reached forward. He rested his fingers on Leonard’s face, brushing gently over his skin, and slipped in. Leonard shuddered as he did it, sinking with him and Spock had to struggle to keep them afloat as Leonard fell just from this simple act. He did not go deep. Spock felt as Leonard felt, heard him begging with words he could not bring himself to say, a want that—once verbalized—could destroy him ( _I want to kiss you_ ).

Spock pulled out gradually, sliding back into his own body and feeling the shape of himself. His body ached with need, every piece of him alight with desire. His fingertips tingled and his mouth felt empty without Leonard, even as he filled it with words, reshaping their joint desire to make it acceptable, easier for Leonard to accept.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

Leonard shuddered and Spock took advantage of his distraction, curling his hand against the back of Leonard’s head and drawing him in. He pulled Leonard into his arms again and held him tightly, feeling the way Leonard quivered at his coiled strength. Leonard shook in his grasp and he lightly pulled Leonard’s hair, knowing how much he liked that and delighting as he was rewarded with Leonard’s head falling back, his neck bared and vulnerable, lips parted as he gasped.

“Let me in,” Spock murmured, and they were already kissing, already sliding smooth and slick and desperate against one another, his hand in Leonard’s hair, the other pulling Leonard’s waist to hold him close, as he commanded—begged, “Let me _in_.”

Leonard opened to him, keening, and Spock slipped into the warmth of his mouth. Leonard responded to his tongue and kissed back, sparking excitement against Spock’s lips that traveled down his spine, pooling at his lower back and deep in his belly. He could feel Leonard’s hands on him, on his chest again, running over him and touching him until he was quietly gasping into Leonard’s mouth.

It was stunning. Leonard in his arms, shoulders twisting and rolling as he tried to get closer. This was what they were doing—and what was it? Sex without a scene. Without pretense. And there was fear there, in the space between them, balanced with the precariousness of trying something new and hoping against hope that it worked. Spock wanted this so badly that he ached with need, burned with desire, but he feared how Leonard would respond. Could they do this together? Lay together without the thin veneer of artificiality? The plausible deniability that if what they had wasn’t real, then it would not hurt when it was gone? Could they simply...be?

Leonard’s body begged for his touch and he provided it without hesitance, running his hand over Leonard’s trim waist, catching the roughness of the towel that still hid his nakedness. Spock smoothed it down and Leonard shuddered against him, lifting up into Spock’s possessive touch.

They had never kissed like this—with passion borne of need on both ends, Leonard candid and expressive of his desires even if he could not state them openly. Spock reveled in it, basked in it, swallowed Leonard’s desire as if he could hold it inside of himself warm and solid. He wanted to remember every moment of this, how it felt to have Leonard touch him, Leonard’s warm hand slipping beneath the front of his shirt.

He pulled back in surprise and Leonard yearned towards him, lips wet and pressed-pink, eyes hooded and dark. Spock looked down and saw that Leonard had completely undone the buttons on his shirt and now his hands had slipped inside, touching Spock’s bare skin with fervent intensity. Spock wanted to say that it wasn't necessary—that they could just kiss—but then Leonard pushed his hips forward and his hard cock caught against Spock’s thigh, tenting the white terrycloth towel, and Spock forgot about trying to slow down.

He claimed Leonard’s mouth again, rolling him onto his back and pinning him against the bed. Leonard made a delightful sound—a gasp that slipped into a groan, low and needy, sending ripples through Spock as he kissed his way inside of Leonard and held him down with the weight of his body. He could feel Leonard trying to work his shirt off his shoulders but he couldn’t bare to let go of his lover long enough for him to do that and Leonard quickly gave up, moving back to touch Spock’s chest, his ribs, his stomach taut with arousal and need. Spock rolled his hips down and his slit slid over Leonard’s covered erection, eliciting a jerky groan from his lover. He held him down and did it again. And again. And again as Leonard twisted beneath him, mouth open but too distracted by pleasure to kiss Spock back, and Spock wanted nothing more but to bask in the sounds Leonard made, in his mewling desire, but behind them the film’s music was rising with tension.

He tried to ignore it but it grew louder and louder, filling his ears until Spock finally yanked away from Leonard and shimmied down his body. Leonard made a sound of distress as Spock left him writhing there, moving quickly to kick off the screen, plunging them into silence.

Silence, save for how loudly Leonard was panting, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath, and Spock realized he was lying on Leonard’s legs, his face near Leonard’s thigh. He looked up the length of Leonard’s body and saw Leonard watching him. The towel was functionally useless now, hanging loose to the side, exposing every bare inch of Leonard’s beautiful, flushed body save for one. It had caught against his erection and was taught with pressure, and Spock reached up and pulled it aside.

Leonard shuddered as the rough terrycloth scraped over the sensitive head of his cock. Spock was entranced by it, thinking of how it had felt to have Leonard in his mouth that morning, filling out inside him. Leonard was already full. Very full, flushed red and stiff. Spock wanted to taste him again, needed it, needed to have Leonard in his mouth.

He caught Leonard’s eye and asked, silent. He wanted Leonard to say _yes_ , to urge him on, but Leonard seemed incapable of saying anything at all as his legs fell open and—oh. That was because Spock was pushing them apart, layering kiss over the delicate skin of Leonard’s inner thighs, mouthing at the bruises as Leonard hitched towards him.

He got his hands under Leonard’s bottom and lifted him slightly off the bed and Leonard draped his legs over Spock’s shoulders, ankles crossed at the back of Spock’s neck as Spock kissed him in that vulnerable place, that place which was only for Spock to admire, only for Spock to touch and hold. Spock ran his tongue over the papery skin of Leonard’s external testicles and Leonard gasped, hips shaking as Spock took one into his mouth, lolling it against his tongue. Leonard didn’t have much leverage in this position; he could only lay back as Spock drew the skin between his lips and sucked.

“Mm!”

Spock looked up over the sloped planes of Leonard’s body and saw his lover had his fist against his mouth, stifling his sounds of ecstasy. Spock dropped Leonard’s sensitive testicles and rested his lips against the heat of Leonard’s cock. He kissed him, working his way up to the exposed head, slick where Leonard’s skin had been pulled back.

“Let me hear you,” Spock murmured, peppering the head of Leonard’s beautiful erection with kisses. “Let me hear you, Leonard. Let me—”

Suddenly both of Leonard’s hands were on his head. Not pulling, but holding, fingers slipping through Spock’s hair and over the tip of his ear and Leonard made another sound, deep and painful, whispered, “ _Please_ —”

And Spock’s throat ached and he wanted to take it back, but he knew he would keep going, pleasuring Leonard regardless of what he said, regardless of what flowed from his mouth, what he needed to say to make it okay.

“— _don’t stop_.”

Spock swallowed him down hungrily, desperately, excitement racing down his spine. He would give Leonard anything, anything to hear him beg for it again. He was no expert in this, in mouthing Leonard’s thick cock, drinking him down—but he was an expert at watching Leonard’s every move, observing the hitch of his breath, the tremble in his thighs, the way his body clenched in pleasure as Spock took him into his mouth.

And the sounds, the sounds that filled his ears, each one pure and arousing, enticing him to please Leonard still further. Leonard was heat and salt against his tongue, his body devoted to writhing pleasantly beneath Spock’s ministrations, his mouth a vessel for his begging. Leonard tried to thrust up into Spock’s mouth but the angle was awkward. He had no leverage. Spock held his hips and tipped Leonard up, further off the bed so Leonard’s stomach quivered with the tension needed to hold himself aloft. Spock held him so still and just sucked at Leonard, marveled at him.

He didn’t know how long Leonard’s newfound freedom could last, and so he savored every moment of it. Somehow, tonight had become different for them. Simpler in act yet infinitely more complex in scope. He did not know if Leonard would ever be like this again, and so he intended to make the most of it.

Leonard’s legs were shaking near his ears. He was close. He had to be, and Spock slowly rolled his lips down Leonard’s length and then back up, stopping to hold just his slick head, tongue languidly drawing over Leonard’s tip. Leonard was shaking, hands tense in Spock’s hair, and Spock pulled back completely and watched Leonard’s cock fall against his stomach.

“Are you close, Leonard?”

Leonard laughed, disbelieving and pained. “Am I—what? Are you kidding me?”

Spock merely raised his brow.

Leonard threw his head back against the pillow, hips quivering. “Yes! Okay!? Yes, I’m close, damned greenblooded—you’ve been keeping me on edge all night and now you ask if I’m _close_? I just, can’t you just— _oh_ God Spock _please_!”

Leonard’s rant faded as Spock took him into his mouth again, resuming his earlier activities. His hands cupped Leonard’s tight bottom, massaging him, gentling him. He slipped his fingers down, searchingly, brushing over Leonard’s hole but not slipping in. Leonard hiccuped as he did it, jerking under him and he could feel it: feel every centimeter of Leonard’s body light with fire as Leonard turned himself over to the pleasure of the moment, gave up the last vestiges of the weak facade that had kept him closed off and hidden away. Leonard was shaking with it, groaning with it, salt and heat filling Spock’s mouth as he came and Spock swallowed it all greedily, wanting to take Leonard inside of himself and keep him there forever.

Too soon, Leonard’s breathing turned erratic for a different reason, his cock softening in Spock’s mouth as he groaned in distress at Spock still sucking him. Spock wanted to keep going. He wanted to push Leonard through the pain and oversensitivity ( _too much, too much_ ) until he was hard again, fat in Spock’s mouth. He wanted Leonard to come like that a second time, and a third. Indefinitely until all the empty space within Spock had been filled. He wanted to do that more than anything.

But he didn’t. He stilled his motions and looked up the length of Leonard’s body. Leonard’s head was still thrown back, chest heaving. Spock let him slip from his mouth.

The inside of his mouth was slick with Leonard’s come and Spock lifted two fingers up, scooping them over his tongue and drawing them away wet and slippery. He pressed them against Leonard’s entrance and began rubbing, coaxing Leonard to relax until he could slip inside, just the first knuckle of his fingers curling into that warmth.

Leonard was tugging on his shirt collar. “C’mere, c-come ‘ere. Spock, gotta...Gotta see…”

Spock followed Leonard’s urging. He let Leonard’s legs slip from his shoulders and he heaved himself up over Leonard’s body, his fingers sliding inside as he moved. Leonard groaned at the intrusion and Spock took advantage of his open mouth to slip his tongue in as well, kissing him with the taste of Leonard’s come still thick in his mouth.

Leonard was shuddering under him, hands weakly pulling at Spock’s shirt. Leonard managed to push it off his shoulders and Spock shrugged it off, but it got caught on the wrist of the hand still buried in Leonard’s needy body. Spock left it there and pressed his chest against Leonard’s, feeling Leonard’s warmth, the softness of his skin. Leonard’s hands were on his bare back, legs drawn up to give Spock access to him, mouth still open and lewd so Spock could kiss him.

His cock ached, pressed painfully against the inside of his trousers. He wanted to open them and let himself out, give in to his passions and take Leonard now, immediately, barely wet and hardly open enough for even two fingers to the second knuckle, let alone Spock’s length inside of him. He knew without a doubt that Leonard would let him do it.

Spock focused on the pain to calm himself. This was far from over; he could not give in just yet.

They kissed as Spock fingered him open, letting his digits slide gently into Leonard’s tight hole. There wasn’t enough wetness and so Spock reached towards the bedside table. They were too far and with a growl Spock gathered Leonard up, hauling him bodily to the side, unwilling to break the kiss as Leonard clung to him, and then he could reach, his hand slapping down and nearly knocking the tray off as he yanked open the drawer and pulled out the bottle of lubricant.

Leonard made a noise as Spock slide the bottle between them, letting the slick fall onto his fingers so that he could push it into Leonard’s waiting body. Leonard shuddered as he did it, body opening soft and easy, malleable to Spock’s desires, and Spock gathered more lubricant and repeated the gesture. He would need a great deal to see his plans to completion.

He let the bottle fall to the side and pressed his fingers in deep, all the way. Leonard moved with him fluidly, as if he had been made for this, and Spock began to gently finger him open.

Minutes piled up in the wet slick space between them, covered in Leonard’s moans of—gratitude, perhaps, as Spock opened him. Spock took his time, so much of it that Leonard’s stomach was quivering with exhaustion when Spock finally slipped his third finger in. Leonard was fit and strong but even he couldn’t hold himself open, knees to his chest, indefinitely. Spock took Leonard’s legs and wrapped them around his waist, and then it was easier for Leonard to hold himself up as Spock pointed his fingers and then spread them, drawing almost outside before pushing back in. He kissed Leonard and tasted his gasp as Spock found his prostate and began to stroke it.

Leonard had gone limp beneath him. He let Spock kiss him and finger him but responded only meekly, mouth warm and lax, body loose and giving. As Spock stroked him inside he began to whimper, soft broken sounds quickly swallowed. Spock felt Leonard’s soft cock twitching against his stomach. It took him a long time but gradually, so gradually as to be almost imperceptible, Leonard began to harden again, filling with blood as Spock stimulated him. His whimpers were louder now, outside his control, his hole stretched and needy.

Spock slid in a fourth finger.

“Pl—” Leonard begged against Spock’s lips. “P-please.”

The sounds he made were so delightful: desperate mewling, a whine of distress. Spock ran his tongue over the roof of Leonard’s mouth, tasting him. “Please what?”

“Please—can you…? C-can...you please?”

Leonard wasn’t making sense and so Spock stilled his hand, buried up to his thumb inside of Leonard’s body. “Leonard?” he asked hesitantly, concerned that he couldn’t understand what Leonard was asking of him. “Do you wish for me to stop?”

He was trembling, eyes closed tight. He shook his head weakly, just once to the side and then back again. “Did I...say the word?”

He seemed to be honestly asking and so Spock told him, “No. You did not.”

Leonard relaxed. “Good,” he breathed. “Just...please Spock, don’t...don’t stop.”

Four fingers was enough, Spock decided, pulling out his hand. Leonard shuddered with want as he left, shaking his head from side to side again.

“N-no, Spock, I said please, I—don’t leave, I need—”

“Shh,” Spock whispered to him. “Shh, Leonard, I’m here. I am here.” He shook off the dangling shirt sleeve and dropped his hand to open the front of his trousers. “Right here. I’m going to penetrate you, Leonard. Would you like that?”

Leonard made a sound, a note of desire high in his throat. Spock bent and kissed his bobbing adam’s apple and finally got his trousers down around his hips. He looked down and took himself in his hand, trying to focus as the excitement he felt threatened to overwhelm him. He lined the tip of his cock up with Leonard’s fluttering, eager hole and slipped inside, just a centimeter, just enough.

He wanted to watch Leonard as he took him but when he looked up he saw that Leonard was covering his face. Both hands were cupped to hide him, and Spock could see just the barest flutter of his eyelashes between his splayed fingers. Something twisted inside of Spock and he took Leonard’s wrists and shoved them aside.

“Let me see you,” he ordered, pinning Leonard’s hands to the bed. “Let me—Leonard, look at me.”

With a whimper, Leonard shook his head, but his eyes did fall open, piercing blue nearly filled black with arousal. Spock thought he would drown in Leonard’s eyes and he stared down at him, filled his vision with Leonard’s beautiful face twisted in ecstasy, kept his wrists pinned so he could not hide himself again. Slowly, he began to rock his hips forward, sliding into Leonard easy and slow.

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice cracking with an emotion he was terrified to name. “Beautiful, Leonard. You are beautiful. I adore you. I—I adore you,” he said again, instead of what he wished to say which even now might hurt Leonard more than he could stand.

Leonard’s legs were tightening around his waist, his heel falling to Spock’s lower back to draw him in closer. Leonard’s lips were so pink and perfect, eyes glittering with that same unsaid thing that was too big for either of them to face alone ( _but maybe together..._ ). Spock let himself slide forward, filling Leonard utterly and completely, taking Leonard as his own as Leonard closed himself around Spock, enveloped him in warmth and passion and kindness.

And then there was no space between them.

Spock gasped. Snapped his mouth closed. His grip on Leonard’s wrists grew weak as he bottomed out, feeling Leonard stretch to accommodate him. He was so wet and smooth inside, body molding itself in pursuit of pleasure.

“Leonard,” Spock whispered. The word was magical to say. How could he be so lucky, that Leonard would allow him to say his name like this, fill the syllables with new meaning. “ _Leonard_.”

He wanted this to last a thousand years—no, _longer_. A millenia was not enough time to be with Leonard. He needed time to stretch, to slow, so that he could exist only in this simple moment with Leonard beneath him, body open to him, the infinity of his gaze piercing the last of Spock’s already-tenuous grip on logic.

“Yeah,” Leonard said, legs hitching up higher on Spock’s body. “I know. Me too.”

Spock thrust into him with reverence, basking in his ability to worship Leonard with his body. He hardly realized he had released Leonard’s wrists until he felt Leonard’s touch on the back of his hand, gently lifting him, drawing him in.

Leonard kissed the flat of his palm and met Spock’s gaze intently, eyes bright, and then he brought Spock’s hand to rest against the column of his throat.

Spock went still, ice trickling down his spine. “Leonard—”

“I-I know,” Leonard whispered. He pet the back of Spock’s hand to pacify him. “I know, Spock.”

“I don’t wish to hurt you.”

Leonard twitched, shifted, his body seeming entirely too helpless under Spock. “I want you to.”

Spock was stunned into silence. Leonard wanted him to. The words hovered between them solid and _real_. Not unspoken, but _said_ , and Spock could not believe it. Had no idea what to do next.

Leonard seemed to know. He glanced aside, looking embarrassed, his cheeks flushed with a high pink blush. “I’m sorry I...can’t always tell you what I want.” He swallowed heavily, throat moving beneath Spock’s light touch. “You hurt me when you fuck me, Spock. Can you...please do it when we make love, too?”

He could. He would do anything for Leonard, anything, “ _Anything_ ,” he promised, and it was too much, too precious, this thing between them. Leonard under his hand looking up at him angelic and beautiful. Entirely trusting. Entirely beholden to Spock as Spock was beholden to him.

He took Leonard’s breath.

Spock held him down gently but firmly, hand tight around Leonard’s throat, watching as Leonard’s face lit up in pleasure. He began to count the seconds as Leonard held his wrist, fingers soft and soothing, calming Spock and enticing Spock to squeeze just that much harder.

Leonard twitched in his grasp, mouth slipping open to expose the hot, wet expanse inside. His body moved, clenching around Spock, squeezing him as the lack of oxygen began to stress his systems, as Leonard instinctively tried to gasp and discovered that he _couldn’t_. A flush bloomed on Leonard’s chest and moved higher, ducking under Spock’s fingers to sweep over Leonard’s gorgeous face. Leonard began to struggle weakly, apparently without meaning to. His body flowed around Spock and Spock looked down at him and felt at peace.

He began to move again, thrusting into Leonard’s body as Leonard squeezed him. Leonard’s eyes began to flag, his tongue poking listlessly out between his lips.

One-hundred fifty seconds. Spock released his grip and Leonard jerked, eyes widening in surprise, suddenly holding on to Spock’s wrist tightly, as if he were afraid Spock would pull away entirely. But Spock kept his hand there as he gently fucked Leonard against the bedspread, waiting for Leonard to catch his breath.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, entranced.

Leonard hesitated. Nodded. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He squeezed Leonard’s throat again and pounded into him, drawing his hips out slowly and snapping them back in so Leonard jumped at the force of it, hands clawing at Spock’s knuckles, body humming with adrenaline. Leonard was making noises that terrified and aroused Spock, soft clicks of his throat as he tried to swallow, tried to breathe and couldn’t. Spock held him and choked him until he was shaking, tears of adrenaline pooling at the corners of his eyes, collecting like dew on his lashes. Leonard looked up at him with trust even as his body tried to fight Spock off, his weak oxygen-starved limbs no match for Spock’s Vulcan strength.

He released Leonard again and Leonard spasmed around him, clutching at his cock with his body. He was shuddering, his face red, eyes glistening and wet. Spock leaned down to sandwich Leonard’s dry cock between their bodies, but also to kiss him, pushing his tongue into Leonard’s mouth gently as he strangled him again.

Spock controlled him utterly. The shape of Leonard’s hands on his stayed relaxed, unintentional. Leonard wanted it even as Spock decreased the length between presses of his hand, letting Leonard suck in only a weak breath before stealing it from him again. He kept his touches short, staccato rhythms, knowing that Leonard was too far gone to really register that Spock was only choking him for perhaps thirty seconds at a time.

Leonard was so docile and yielding beneath him, and Spock knew it would not be much longer for either of them. He could feel Leonard’s hard cock twitching each time he bore down on Leonard’s neck, and Leonard’s body was too warm and perfectly made for him to resist it for very long. And so Spock gave himself over to it, to the pleasure as he gave Leonard what he wanted, everything he needed, made love to Leonard until the covers were wrinkled and mussed, until silent tears were running down Leonard’s temples, until Leonard was coming sweet and honest between them.

Spock pressed their slick bodies together and let up on Leonard’s throat, kissing the place where bruises would soon form. Leonard made a needy sound, arms weakly touching Spock’s arms in encouragement, and Spock lasted only a few more desperate strokes before his vision was whiting out, body wracked with pleasure as he filled Leonard’s waiting body with his mark.

He collapsed against Leonard fully, holding Leonard in his arms as they both came down from the height of their euphoria. He never wanted to let Leonard go again. It felt too natural to hold him like this, still inside Leonard’s body as Leonard began to touch his back, broad hands gentle and kind. How Spock loved Leonard’s hands.

He loved everything about him. He pulled back, intending to say it, say it now while Leonard was too blissed to pull away, too owned to fight him. But the sight of Leonard stopped him. Leonard gazed up at him openly, his face utterly relaxed. His throat was red from where Spock had squeezed him. His mouth was quirked into a smile.

Spock didn’t say anything. Leonard already knew.

They disentangled their bodies and Spock couldn’t resist kissing Leonard’s temple, his cheek. Leonard grumbled at him but didn’t push him away. When he looked at the chronometer he was shocked at how much time had passed. It was already late. Spock shoved Leonard—who was still complaining—until he was under the covers and curled up, bright eyes following Spock as he stood to shuck off his trousers and then crawl naked into bed beside him.

“Leaving a mess for yourself tomorrow,” Leonard said, not apparently meaning anything by it.

Spock pulled the covers up around their chins. “Computer, lights off.”

The room darkened and Spock felt Leonard moving beside him, the warmth of his body. He pulled Leonard into a hug and Leonard sighed against his neck. He could feel all of Leonard’s body, his naked frame pleasant against Spock’s skin. He was good to hold. Gradually, Leonard relaxed against him, his weight solid as Spock held him.

“...Am I bothering you?” Leonard asked suddenly.

Spock hummed. “You are not.”

“Okay.” Leonard was silent. He squirmed again and then relaxed. “I kick in my sleep, you know.”

“I know,” Spock said wryly. “I have slept beside you every night for many months now, Leonard.”

Leonard hummed. “So you have, so you have.” He sighed and curled around Spock’s body, limbs draping and intertwining until Spock didn’t know where he ended and Leonard began.

They were quiet for a while. Spock listened to Leonard breathing, feeling at peace. Leonard still seemed antsy, and Spock waited patiently as Leonard found the courage to ask what he was going to ask.

“Spock?”

“Hmm?”

“Could you...next time, d’you think you’d want any...help? Planning a scene?”

Spock couldn’t resist pulling Leonard tighter into his arms even as Leonard wriggled in annoyance. He tried to kiss Leonard’s mouth but missed in the dark, repositioning himself and finally finding Leonard’s soft lips. “Yes,” he whispered against them. “I desire your assistance, Leonard.”

Leonard huffed awkwardly, an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah, well. We’ll see how it goes. I’m not the most creative guy.”

Spock arched his brow even though Leonard couldn’t see it in the dark. “Not so,” he whispered, kissing Leonard before he could disagree. He found himself lost in the sensation, Leonard’s sleepy limbs brushing against him as he slipped gently into Leonard’s mouth. Just kissing him and holding him, murmuring against Leonard’s lips so quiet that he wondered if Leonard could hear, but then Leonard was shifting into his arms, sighing into his mouth.

Soft. “Yeah. Me too.”

They fell asleep like that, still talking, whispering. Things no longer unsaid.


End file.
